
Glass„ET-{..2ia!]: 
Book lAj[ 



'i-^vS 



SELECT 



BRITISH CLASSICS. 



VOLUME XXXIX. 



ESSAYS 



ON 



Men and Manners, 



BY WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ. 



IN ONE VOLUME. 



/ 

Every single observation that is published by a man of genius, 
" be it ever so trivial, should be esteemed of importance ; 
<' because he speaks from his own impressions ; whereas 
" common men publish common things, which they perhaps 
*' gleaned from frivolous writers." 

Essay on Writing and Books, No. LXIV. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

PRINTED BY WILLIAM \V. MORSE, 

FOR SAMUEL F. BRADFORD, NO. 4, SOUTH THIRD STREET, 

AND JOHN CONRAD AND €0. NO. SO, CHESNUT STREET. 

1804. 



MEMOIRS 

OF 

WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ, 



A GREAT part of the poetic works oF Mr. 
Shenstone, particularly his Elegies and Pastorals, 
are (as he himself expresses it) " The exact trans- 
cripts of the situation of his own mind;" and abound 
in frequent allusions to his own place, the beautiful 
scene of his retirement from the world. Exclusive- 
ly therefore of our natural curiosity to be acquainted 
with the history of an author, whose works we peruse 
with pleasure, some short account of Mr. Sh en- 
stone's personal character, and situation in life, may 
not only be agreeable, but absolutely necessary to the 
reader ; as it is impossible he should enter into the 
true spirit of his writings, if he is entirely ignorant 
of those circumstances of his life, which sometimes 
so greatly influences his reflection. 

I could wish, however, that this task had been al- 
lotted to some person capable of performing it in that 
masterly manner which the subject so well deserves. 
To confess the truth, it was chiefly to prevent his re- 
mains from falling into the hands of any one still less 
qualified to do him justice, that I have unwillingly 
ventured tt) undertake the publication of them my- 
self. 

Mr. Shenstone was the eldest son of a plain un- 
educated country gentleman in Shropshire, who far- 

A 2 



VI MEMOIRS OF 

med his own estate. The father, sensible of his 
son's extraordinary capacity, resolved to give him a 
learned education, and sent him a commoner to Pem- 
broke College in Oxford, designing him for the 
Church : but though he had the most awful notions 
of the wisdom, power, and goodness of God, he ne- 
ver could be persuaded to enter into orders. In his 
private opinions he adhered to no particular sect, and 
hated all religious disputea. But whatever were his 
own sentiments, he alv.ays' shewed great tenderness 
to those who differed from him. Tenderness, in- 
deed, in every sense of the word, was his peculiar 
characteristic ; his friends, his domestics, his poor 
neighbours, all daily experienced his benevolent turn 
of mind. Indeed, this virtue in him was often car- 
ried to such excess, that it sometimes bordered up- 
on weakness : yet if he was convinced that any of 
those ranked amongst the number of his friends, had 
treated him ungenerously, he was noteasily reconciled* 
He used a maxim, however, on such occasions, 
whieh is \Aorthy of being observed and imitated ; " I 
never (said he) will be a revengeful enemy ; but I 
cannot, it is not in my nature, to be half a friend.'* 
He was in his temper, quite unsuspicious ; but if 
suspicion v.as once awakened in him, it was not laid 
asleep again without difficulty. 

He was no economist ; the generosity of his tem- 
per prevented him from paying a proper regard to 
the use of money : he exceeded therefore the bounds 
of his paternal fortune, which before he died was 
considerably encumbered. But when one recollects 
the perfect paradise he had raised around him, the hos- 
pitality with which he lived, his great indulgence to 
his servants, his charities to the indigent, and all done 
with an estate not more than three hundred pounds a 
year, one should rather be led to wonder that he left 
any thing behind him, than to blume bis want of 
economy. He left ho v. ever mere than sufficient to 



WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ. Vli 

pay all his debts ; and by his will appropriated his 
whole for that purpose. 

It was perhaps from some considerations on the 
narrowness of his fortune, that he forbore to marry ; 
for he was no enemy to wedlock, had a high opinion 
of many among the fair sex, was fond of their socie- 
ty, and no stranger to the tenderest impressions. 
One, which he received in his youth, was with dif- 
ficulty surmounted. The lady was the subject of that 
sweet pastoral,''in four parts, which has been so uni- 
versally admired ; and which, one would have thought, 
must have subdued the loftiest heart, and softened the 
most obdurate. 

His person, as to height, was above the middle 
stature, but largely and rather inelegantly formed : 
his face seemed plain till you conversed with him, 
and then it grew very pleasing. In his dress he was 
negligent, even to a fault; though when young, at 
the university, he was accounted a Beau. He wore 
his own hair, which was quite grey very early, in a 
particalar manner ; not from any affectation of sin- 
gularity, but from a maxim he had laid down that 
without too slavish a regard to fashion, every one 
should dress in a manner most suitable to his own 
person and figure. In short, his faults were only lit 
tie blemishes, thrown in by nature, as it were on 
purpose to prevent him from rising too much above 
the level of imperfection allotted to humanity. 

His character as a writer will be distinguished by 
simplicity with elegance, and genius with correct- 
ness. He had a sublimity equal to the highest at- 
tempts ; yet from the indolence of his temper, he 
chose rather to amuse himself in culling flowers at 
the foot of the mount, than to take the trouble cf 
climbing the more arduous steeps of Parnassuf. 
But whenever he was disposed to rise, his steps, 
though natural, were noble, and always well support- 
ed. In the tenderness of elegiac poetry he hath not 



Vlll MEMOIRS OF 

been excelled ; in the simplicity of pastoral, one 
may venture to say he had very few equals. Of 
great sensibility himself, he never failed to engage 
the hearts of his readers : and amidst the nicest at- 
tention to the harmony of his numbers, he always 
took care to express witJn propriety the sentiments 
of an elegant mind. In all his writings, his greatest 
difficulty was to please himself. I remember a pas- 
sage in one of his letters, where, speaking of his 
love songs, he says...." Some were written on oc- 
casions a good deal imaginary, others not so ; and 
the reason there are so many is, that I wanted to write 
one good song, and could never please myself." It 
was this diffidence which occasioned him to throw 
aside many of his pieces before he had bestowed up- 
on them his last touches. I have suppressed several 
on this account ; and if among those which I hav» 
selected, there should be discovered some little want 
of his finishing polish, I hope it will be attributed to 
this cause, and of course be excused : yet I flatter 
myself there will always appear something well wor- 
thy of having been preserved. And though I was 
afraid of inserting what might injure the character 
of my friend, yet as the sketches of a great master 
are always valuable, I was unwilling the public should 
lose any thing material of so accomplished a writer. 
In this dilemma it will easily be conceived that the 
task I had to perform would become somewhat diffi- 
cult. How I have acquitted myself, the public must 
judge. Nothing, however, except what he had al- 
ready published, has been admitted without the ad- 
vice of his most judicious friends, nothing altered, 
without their particular concurrence. It is impossi-p 
ble to please every one ; but it is hoped that no rea- 
der will be so unreasonable, as to imagine that the 
author wrote solely for his amuseriient : his talents 
were various ; and though it may perhaps be allowed 
that his excellence chiefly appeared in subjects of ten- 



WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ^ IX 

derness and simplicity, yet he frequently condescend- 
ed to trifle with those of humour and drollery : these, 
indeed, he himself in some measure degraded by the 
title which he gave them of Levities ; but had they 
been entirely rejected, the public would have been 
deprived of some Jeux d'esprits, excellent in their 
kind, and Mr. Shenstone's character as a writer 
would have been but imperfectly exhibited. 

But the talents of Mr. Shenstone were not confi- 
ned merely to poetry : his character, as a man of 
clear judgment, and deep penetration, will best ap- 
pear from his prose works. It is there we must search 
for the acuteness of his understanding, and his pro- 
found knowledge of the human heart. It is to be la- 
mented indeed, that some things here are unfinished, 
and can be regarded only as fragments : many are 
left as single thoughts, but which, like the sparks of 
diamonds, shew the richness of the mind to which 
they belong ; or like the foot of a Hercules, discover 
the uncommon strength, and extraordinary dimen- 
sions of that hero. I have no apprehension of incur- 
ring blame from any one, for preserving these valu- 
able remains : they will discover to every reader, the 
author's sentiments on several important subjects. 
And there can be very few, to whom they will not 
impart many thoughts, which they would never per- 
haps have been able to draw from the source of their 
own reflections. 

But I believe little need be said to recommend the 
writings of this gentleman to public attention. His 
character is already sufficiently established. And if 
he be not injured by the inability of his editor, but 
there is no doubt he will ever maintain an eminent 
station among the best of our English writers. 



CONTENTS. 



ON Publications, - - - 

On the Test of popular Opinion, 

On allowing Merit in others, 

The Impromptu, _ . - 

An Humourist, _ _ . - - 

The Hermit, (in the manner of Cambray) 

On Distinctions, Orders, and Dignities, 

On the same Subject, . „ - . 

A Character, - . - 

On Reserve, a Fragment, 

On external Figure, - - - 

A Character, , - . - - 

An Opinion of Ghosts, - - - 

On Cards, a Fragment, - - - 

On Hypocrisy, : - - - - 

On Vanity, - . - . » 

An Adventure, . - _ - 

On Mod«sty and Impudence, 

The History of Don Pedro***, 

UpOTi Envy. To a Friend, R. G. 

A Vision, - . . . 

Unconnected Thoughts on Gardening, 

On Politics, - . . - 

Egotisms, from my own sensations. 

On Dress, - - - - - 

On Writing and Books, 

Books, Sec. . - - - 

Of Men and Manners, 

Of Books and Writers, 

On Men and Manners, - - - 

On Religion, - . - 

On Taste. . . - - 



page 



13 

16 

18 

20 

23 

26 

32 

55 

38 

40 

44 

47 

50 

54 

56 

60 

62 

66 

70 

71 

76 

84 

98 

101 

108 

112 

133 

136 

168 

175 

185 

193 



ESSAYS 



ON 



Men and Manners. 



ON PUBLICATIONS. 

IT is not unamusing to consider the several 
apologies that people make when they commence au- 
thors. It is taken for granted that, on every publica- 
tion, there is at least a seeming violation of modesty ; 
a presumption, on the writer's side, that he is able 
to instruct or entertain the world ; which implies a 
supposition that he can communicate, what they can- 
not draw from their own reflections. 

To remove any prejudice this might occasion, has 
been the general intent of prefaces. Some we find 
extremely solicitous to claim acquaintance with their 
reader ; addressing him by the most tender and en- 
dearing appellations. He is in general styled the most 
loving, candid and courteous creature that ever 
breathed ; with a view, doubtless, that he will deserve 
the compliment; and that his favour maybe secured 
at the expence of his better judgment. Mean and 
idle expectation I The accidental elopements and ad- 

B 



J 4 ESSAYS ON MEN 

ventures of a composition ; the danger of an imper- 
fect and surreptitious publication ; the pressing and 
indiscreet instances of friends ; the pious and well- 
meant frauds of acquaintance ; with the irresistable 
commands of persons in high life ; have been excuses 
often substituted in place of real motives, vanity and 
hunger. 

The most allowalde reasons for appearing thus in 
public are, either the advantage or amusement of our 
fellow-creatures, or our own private emolument and 
reputation. 

A man possessed of intellectual talents would be 
more blamable in confining them to his own private 
use, than the mean-spirited miser, that did the same 
by his money. The latter is indeed obliged to bid 
adieu to what he commuriicates ! the former enjoys 
his treasures, even while he renders others the better 
for them. A composition that enters the world with 
a view of improving or amusing it (I mean only, 
amusing it in a polite or innocent way) has a claim 
to our utmost indulgence, even though it fail of the 
effect intended. 

\\ hen a writer'^ private interest appears the mo- 
tive of his publication, the reader has a larger scope 
for accusation, even if he be a sufferer. Whoever 
pays for thoughts, Avhich this kind of writers may be 
said to vend, has room enough to complain, if he be 
disappointed of his bargain. He has no revenge, but 
ridicule; and, contrary to the practice in other cases, 
to make the worst of a bad bargain. 

When the love of fame acts upon a man of genius 
the case appears to stand thus. The generality of 
the world, distinguished by the name of readers, ob- 
serve with a reluctance not unnatural, a person rais- 
ing himself above them. All men have some desire 
of fame, and fame is grounded on comparison. Eve- 
ry one then is somewhat inclined to dispute his title 
to a superiority ; and to disallow his pretensions upon 



AND MANNERS, 15 

the discovery of a flaw. Indeed, a fine writer, like 
a luminous body, may be beneficial to the person he 
enlightens ; but it is plain, he renders the capacity 
of the other more discernible Examination, how- 
ever, is a sort of turnpike in the way to fame, where, 
though a writer be a while detained, and part with a 
trifle from his pocket, he finds in his return a more 
commodious and easy road to the temple. 

When, therefore, a man is conscious of ability to 
serve his country, or believes himself possessed of it 
(for there is no previous test on this occasion) he has 

no room to hesitate, or need lo make apology 

When self-interest inclines a man to print, he should 
consider that the purchaser expects a penny-worth 
for his penny ; and has reason to asperse his honesty 
if he finds himself deceived... .Also, that it is possible 
to publish a book of no value, which is tco frequently 

the product of such mercenary people When fame 

is the principal object of our devotion, it should be 
considered whether our character is like to gain in 
point of wit, what it will probably loose in point of 
modesty : otherwise, we shall be censured of vanity 
more than famed for genius ; and depress our cha- 
racter while we strive to raise it. 

After all, there is a propensity in some to commu- 
nicate their thoughts without any view at all : the 
more sanguine of these employ the press; the 
less lively are contented with being impertinent in 
conversation. 



ESSAYS ON MEN 



ON THE fESf OF POPULAR OPINION, 

I HAPPEN to fall into company with a citizen, 
a courtier, and an academic. 

Says the citizen, I am told continually of taste, re- 
finement and politeness ; but methinks the vulgar 
and illiterate generally approve the same productions 
with the connoisseurs. One rarely finds a landscape, 
a building, or a play, that has charms for the critic 
exclusive of the mechanic. But, on the other hand, 
one readily remarks students who labour to be dull, 
depraving their native relish by the very means they 
use to refine it. The vulgar may not indeed be capa- 
ble of giving the reasons why a composition pleases 
them. That mechanical distinction they leave to the 
connoisseur. But they are at all times, methinks, 
judges of the beauty of an effect, a part of know- 
ledge in most respects allowedly more genteel than 
that of the operator. 

Says the courtier, I cannot answer for every indi- 
vidual instance: but I think, moderately speaking, 
the vulgar are generally in the wrong. If they hap- 
pen to be otherwise, it is principally owing to their 
implicit reliance on the skill of their superiors: and 
this has sometimes been strangely effectual in mak- 
ing them imagine they relish perfection. In short, if 
ever they judge well, it is at the time they least pre- 
sume to frame opinions for themselves. 

It is true they will pretend to taste an object which 
they know their betters do. But then they consider 
some person's judgment as a certain standard or rule; 
they find the object exactly tally ; and this demon- 
strated appearance of beauty affords them some small 
degree of satisfaction. 

It is the same with regard to the appetite, from 
which the metaphor of taste is borrowed. " Such a 



AND MANNERS. 17 

soup or olio, say they, is much in vogue ; and if you 
do not like it, you must learn to like it." 

But in poetry, for instance, it is urged that the 
vulgar discover the same beauties with the man of 
reading. 

Now half or more of the beauties of poetry depend 
on metaphor or allusion, neither of which, by a mind 
uncultivated, can be applied to their proper counter- 
parts. Their beauty, of consequence, is like a pic- 
ture to a blind man. 

How many of these peculiarities in poetry turn up- 
on a knowledge of philosophy and history : and let 
me add, these latent beauties give the most delight 
to such as can unfold them. 

I might launch out much farther in regard to the 

narrow limits of their apprehensions W hat I have 

said may exclude their infallibility; and it is my opi- 
nion they are seldom right. 

The academic spoke little, but to the purpose ; as- 
serting that all ranks and stations have their ditferent 
spheres of judging : that a clow^n of native taste 
enough to relish Handel's Messiah, might unques- 
tionably be so instructed as to relish it yet n»ore : 
that an author, before he prints, should not flatter 
himself vvith a confused expectation of pleasing both 
the vulgar and the polite ; few things in comparison, 
being capable of doing both in any great degree : that 
he should always measure out his plan for the size of 
understanding he would fit. If he can content himself 
with the mob, he is pretty sure of numbers for a time. 
If he write with more abundant elegance, it may es- 
cape the organs of such readers ; but he will have a 
chance for such applause as will more sensibly aflect 
him. Let a writer then in his first performances neg- 
lect the idea of profit, and the vulgar's applause en- 
tirely : let him address him to the judicious few, and 
then profit and the mob will follow* His first ap- 
B3 



IS ESSAYS ON MEN 

pearance on the stage of lettei-s will engrpss the po- 
liter compliments ; and his latter will partake of the 
irrational huzza» 



ON ALLQiriNG MERIf IN OTHERS. 

A CERTAIN gentleman was expressing him- 
!^elf as follows : 

I confess, I have no great taste for poetry ; hut if I 
had, I am apt to helieve I should read no other poe- 
try than that of Mr. Pope. The rest but barely ar- 
rive at a mediocrity in their art ; and, to be sure, po- 
etry of that stamp can afford but slender pleasure. 

I know not, says another, what may be the gentle- 
iTian's motive to give this opinion : but I am persua- 
ded, numbers pretend the same through mere jealousy 
or envy. 

A reader considers an author, as one who lays 
claim to a superior genius. He is ever inclined to 
dispute it, because, if he happen to invalidate his ti- 
tle, he has at least one superior the less. Now though 
a man's absolute merit may not depend upon the in- 
feriority of another, yet his comparative v/orth varies 
in regard to that of other people. Self-love, there- 
fore, is ever attentive to pursue the single point of 
admitting no more into the class of superiors, than it 
is impossible to exclude. Could it even limit the 
number to one, they would soon attempt to under- 
mine him. Even Mr. Pope had been refused his 
honours, but that the very constraint, and even ab- 
surdity, of people's shutting their eyes grew as disa- 
greeable to them, as that excellence, which, whe,o 
open, they couUl not but discover. 



AND MANNERS. 19 

But self-love obtains its wishes in another respect 
also. It hereby not only depresses the characters of 
many that have wrote, but stifles the genius of such 
as might hereafter rise from amongst our inferiors. 

Let us not deny to Mr. Pope the praises which a 
person enamoured of poetry would bestow on one 
that excelled in it : but let us consider Parnassus 
rather as a republic than a monarchy ; where, al- 
though some may be in possession of a more culti- 
vated spot, yet others may possess land as fruitful, 
upon equal cultivation. 

On the whole, let us reflect, that the nature of the 
soil, and the extent of its fertility, must remain un- 
discovered, if the gentleman's desponding principle 
should meet with approbation. 

Mr. Pope's chief excellence lies in what I would 
term consolidating or condensing sentences, yet pre- 
serving ease and perspecuity. In smoothness of 
verse, perhaps, he has been equalled: in regard to 
invention, excelled. 

Add to this, if the writers of antiquity may be es- 
teemed our truest models, Mr. Pope is much more 
witty, and less simple, than his own Horace appears 
in any of his writings. More witty, and less simple, 
than the modern Monsieur Boileau, who claimed the 
merit of uniting the style of Juvenal and Persius 
with that of Horace. 

Satire gratifies self-love. This was one source of 
his popularity ; and he seems even so very conscious 
of it, as to stigmatize many inoffensive characters. 

The circumstance of what is called alliteration and 
the nice adjustment of the pause, have conspired to 
charm the present age, but have at the same time 
given his verses a very cloying peculiarity. 

But, perhaps, we must '.^ot expect to trace the flow 
of Waller, the landscape of Thompson, the fire of 
Dryden, the imagery of Shakspeare, the simplicity 
of Spencer, the courtliness of Prior, the humour of 



20 ESSAYS ON MEN 

Swift, the wit of Cowley, the delicacy of Addison, 
the tenderness of Otway, and the invention, the spi- 
rit, and sublimity of Milton, joined in any single 
writer. The lovers of poetry, therefore, should al- 
low some praise to those who shine in any branch of 
it, and only range them into classes jaccarding to 
that species in which they shine. 

" Qiiare agite, O juvenes !" 

Banish the self-debasing principle, and scorn the dis- 
ingenuity of readers. Humility has depressed many 
a genius into a hermit ; but never yet raised one in- 
to a poet of eminence. 



fHE IMPROMPfU. 

THE critics, however unable to fix the time 
which it is most proper to allow for the action of an 
epic poem, have universally agreed that some cer- 
tain space is not to be exceeded. Concerning this, 
Aristotle, their great Lycurgus, is entirely silent. 
Succeeding critics have done little more than cavil 
concerning the time really taken up by the greatest 
epic writers : that, if they could not frame a law, 
they might at least establish a precedent of unexcep- 
tionable authority. Plomer, say they, confined the 
action of his Iliad, or rather his action may be re- 
duced, to the space of two months. His Odyssey, 
according to Bossu and Dacier, is extended to eight 
years. Virgil's iEneid has raised very different opin- 
ions in his commentators. Tasso's poem includes a 
summer.. ..But leaving such knotty points to persons 
that appear born for the discussion of them, let us 



AND MANNERS. 21 

cndeavourto establish laws that are more likely to be 
obeyed, than controverted. An epic writer, though 
limited in regard to the time of his action, is under 
no sort of restraint with regard to the time he takes 
to finish his poem. Far different is the case with a 
"writer of Impromptu's. He indeed is allowed all 
the liberties that he can possibly take in his compo- 
sition, but is rigidly circumscribed with regard to 
the space in which it is completed. And no wonder; 
for whatever degree of poignancy may be required 
in this composition, its peculiar merit must ever be 
relative to the expedition with which it is produced. 

It appears indeed to me to have the nature of that 
kind of sallad, v/hich certain eminent adepts in che- 
mistry have contrived to raise, while a joint of mut- 
ton is roasting. We do not allow ourselves to blame 
its unusual flatness and insipidity, but extol the fla- 
vour it has, considering the time of its vegetation. 

An extemporaneous poet, therefore, is to be judged 
as we judge a race-horse; not by the gracefulness of 
his motion, but the time he takes to finish his course. 
The best critic upon earth may err in determining 
his precise degree of merit, if he have neither a stop- 
watch in his hand, nor a clock within his hearing. 

To be a little more serious. An extemporaneous 
piece ought to be examined by a compound ratio, or 
a medium compounded of it's real worth, and the 
shortness of the time that is employed in it's produc- 
tion. By this rule, even A'irgil's poem may be in 
some sort deemed extemporaneous, as the time he 
took to perfect so extraordinary a composition, con- 
sidered with its real worth, appears shorter than the 
time employed to write the disiics of Cosconius. 

On the other hand, I cannot allow this title to the 

flashes of my friend S in the magazine, which 

have no sort of claim to be called verses, besides 
their instantaneitv. 



22 ESSAYS ON MEN 

Having ever made it my ambition to see my writ- 
ings distinguished for something poignant, unexpect- 
ed, or, in some respects, peculiar ; I have acquired 
a degree of fame by a firm adherence to the Con- 
cetti. I have stung folks with my epigrams, amused 
them with acrostics, puzzled them with rebusses, and 
distracted them with riddles. It remained only for 
me to succeed in the Impromptu, for which I was 
utterly disqualiRed by a whoreson slowness of appre- 
hension. 

Still desirous, however, of the immortal honour 
to grow distinguished for an extempore, I petitioned 
Apollo to that purpose in a dream. His answer was 
as follows :...." That whatever piece of wit, either 
written or verbal, makes any pretence to merit, asr 
of extemporaneous production, shall be said or Avrit- 
ten within the time that the author supports himself 
on one leg. That Horace had explained his m.ean- 
ing, by the phrase stans pede in uno. And foras- 
much as one man may persevere in the posture long- 
er than another, he would recommend it to all can- 
didates for this extraordinary accomplishment, that 
they would habituate themselves to study in no other 
atlidude whatsoever." 

Methought I received his answer with the utmost 
pleasure as well as veneration ; hoping, that, how- 
ever I was debarred of the acumen requisite for an 
extempore, I might learn to weary out my betters 
in standing on one leg. 



AND MANNERSi 23 



AN HUMOURISf. 



TO form an estimate of the proportion which 
one man's happiness bears to another's, we are to 
consider the mind that is allotted to him with as much 
attention as the circumstances. It were superfluous 
to evince that the same objects which one despises, 
are frequently to another the substantial source of 
admiration. The man of business and the man of 
pleasure are to each other mutually contemptible ; 
and a blue garter has less charms for some, than 
they can discover in a butterfly. The more candid 
and sage observer condemns neither for his pursuits, 
but for the derision he so profusely lavishes upon the 
disposition of his neighbour. He concludes that 
schemes infinitely various were at first intended for 
our pursuit and pleasure ; and that some find their 
account in heading a cry of hounds, as much as 
others in the dignity of lord chief-justice. 

Having premised thus much, I proceed to give 
some account of a character which came within the 
sphere of my own observation. 

Not the entrance of a cathedral, not the sound of 
a passing bell, not the furs of a magistrate, nor the 
sables of a funeral, were fraught with half the so- 
lemnity of face ! 

Nay, so wonderfully serious was he observed to be 
on all occasions, that it was found hardly possible to 
be otherwise in his company. He quashed the loud- 
est tempest of laughter, whenever he entered the 
room ; and men's features, though ever so much 
roughened, were sure to grow smooth at his ap- 
proach. 

The man had nothing vicious, or even ill-natured 
in his character ; yet he was the dread of all jovial 
conversation ; the young, the gay, found their spi- 



24 ESSAYS ON MEN 

rits fly before him. Even the kitten and the puppy, 
' as it were by instinct, would forego their frolics, and 
be still. The depression he occasioned was like that 
of a damp or vitiatedair. Unconscious of any appa- 
rent cause, you found your spirits sink insensibly : 
and were any one to sit for the picture of ill-luck, it 
is not possible the painter could select a more proper 
person. 

Yet he did not fail to boast of a superior share of 
reason, even for the want of that very faculty, risi- 
bility, with which it is supposed to be always joined. 

Indeed he acquired the character of the most in- 
genious person of his country, from this meditative 
temper. Not that he had ever made any great dis- 
covery of his talents ; but a few oracular declara- 
tions, joined with a common opinion that he was 
writing somewhat for posterity, completed his repu 
tation. 

Numbers would have willingly depreciated his cha- 
racter, had not his known sobriety and reputed sense 
deterred them. 

^^ He was one day overheard at his devotions, return- 
ing his most fervent thanks for some particularities 
in his situation, which the generality of mankind 
would have but little regarded. 

Accept, said he, the gratitude of thy most hum- 
ble, yet most happy creature, not for silver or gold, 
the tinsel of mankind, but for those amiable peculi- 
arities which thou hast so graciously interwoven both 
with my fortune and my complexion : for those trea- 
sures so well adapted to that frame of mind thou hast 
assigned me. 

That the surname which has descended to me is 
liable to no pun. 

That it runs chiefly upon vowels and liquids. 

That I have a picturesque countenance rather than 
one tliat is esteemed of regular features. 



AND MANNERS. 25 

That there is an intermediate hill, intercepting my 
view of a nobleman's seat, whose ill-obtained supe- 
riority I cannot bear to recollect. 

That my estate is over-run with brambles, re- 
sounds with cataracts, and is beautifully varied with 
rocks and precipices, rather than an even cultivated 
spot, fertile of corn, or wine, or oil ; or those kinds 
of productions in which the sons of men delight 
themselves. 

That as thou dividest thy bounties impartially ; giv- 
ing riches to one, and the contempt of riches to an- 
other, so thou hast given me, in the midst of pover- 
ty, to despise the insolence of riches, and by declin- 
ing all emulation that is founded upon wealth, to 
maintain the dignity ynd superiority of the Muses. 

That I have a disposition either so elevated or so 
ingenuous, that I can derive to myself amusement 
from the very expedients and contrivances with which 
rigorous necessity furnishes my invention. 

That I can laugh at n^y own follies, foibles, and 
infirmities; and that I do not want infirmities to em- 
ploy this disposition. 

This poor gentleman caught cold one winter's 
night, as he was contemplating, by the side of a 
chrystal stream by moonshine. This afterwards ter- 
minated in a fever that was fatal to him. Since his 
death, Ihave been favoured with the inspection of his 
poetry, of which I preserved a catalogue for the bene- 
fit of my readers. 

OCCASIONAL POEMS. 

On his^og, that growing corpulent refused a crust 
when it was oftered him. 

To the memory of a pair of breeches, that had 
done him excellent service. 

Having lost his trusty walking-staff, he coniplain- 
eth. 

C 



26 ESSAYS ON MEN 

To his mistress, on her declaring that she lored 
parsnips better than potatoes. 

On an ear-wig that crept into a nectarine that it 
might be swallowed by Cloe. 

On cutting an artichoke in his garden the day that 
Queen Anne cut her little finger. 

Epigram on a wooden peg. 

Ode to the memory of the great modern.. ..who first 
invented shoe-buckles. 



'The her m If. 
(in the manner or cambrayJ 

IT was in that delightful month which Love pre* 
fers before all others, and which most reveres this 
deity : that month which ever weaves a verdant car- 
pet for the earth, and embroiders it with flowers. 
The banks became inviting through their coverlets 
of moss ; the violets, refreshed by the moisture of 
descending rains, enriched the tepid air with their 
agreeable perfumes. But the sliower was past ; the 
sun dispersed the vapours ; and the sky was clear 
and lucid, when Polydore walked forth. He was of 
a complexion altogether plain and unaffected ; a lover 
of the Muses, and beloved by them. He would often- 
times retire from the noise of mixed conversation, to 
enjoy the melody of birds, or the murmurs of a water- 
fall. His neighbours often smiled at his peculiarity 
of temper ; and he no less, at the vulgar cast of theirs. 
He could never be content to pass his irrevocable 
time in an idle x:omment upon a newspaper, or in ad- 
justing the precise difference of temperature betwixt 
the weather of to-day and yesterday. In sliort he was 
not void of some ambition, but what he felt he ac- 



AND MANNERS. 27 

knowledged, and was never averse to vindicate. As 
he never censured any one who indulged their hu- 
mour inoffensively, so he claimed no manner of ap- 
plause for those pursuits which gratified his own. 
But the sentiments he entertained of honour, and 
the dignity conferred by royal authority, made it 
wonderful how he bore the thoughts of obscurity and 
oblivion. He mentioned with applause the youths 
who by merit had arrived at station ; but he thought 
that all should in life's visit leave some token of their 
existence ; and that their friends might more reason- 
ably expect it from them, than they from their pos- 
terity. 

There were few, he thought, of talents so very 
inconsiderable, as to be unalterably excluded from 
all degrees of fame : and in regard to such as had a 
liberal education, he ever wished that in some art or 
science they would be persuaded to engrave their 
names. He thought it might be some pleasure to 
reflect, that their names v»ould at least be honoured 
by their descendants, although they might escape 
the notice of such as were not prejudiced in their 
favour. 

What a lustre, said he, does the reputation of a 
Wren, a Waller, or a Walsingham, cast upon their 
remotest progeny ? and who would not wish rather 
to be descended from them, than from the mere car- 
case of nobility ? Yet wherever superb titles are 
faithfully offered as the reward of merit, he tiiought 
the allurements of ambition were too transpoiting to 
be resisted. But to return. 

Polydore, a new inhabitant in a sort of wild, un- 
inhabited country, was now ascended to the top of a 
mountain, and in the full enjoyn;ent of a very ex- 
tensive prospect. Before him a broad and winding 
valley, variegated with all the charms of landscape. 
Fertile meadows, glittering streams, pendent rocks, 
and nodding ruins. But these indeed were much 



28 ESSAYS ON MEN 

less the objects of his attention, than those distant 
Iiiils and spire that were almost concealed by one 
undistinguished azure. The sea, indeed, appeared 
to close the scene, though distant as it was it but 
little variegated the view. Hardly indeed were it 
distinguishable but for the beams of a descending 
sun, which at the same time warned our traveller to 
return, before the duskiness and dews of evening had 
rendered the walk uncomfortable. 

He had now descended to the foot of the moun- 
tain, when he remarked an old hermit approaching 
to a little hut, which he had formed with his own 
hands at the very bottom of the precipice. Polydore, 
all enamoured of the beauties he had been survey- 
ing, could not avoid wondering at his conduct, who, 
not content with shunning all commerce with man- 
kind, had contrived as much as possible to exclude 
all views of nature. He accosted him in the man- 
ner following :... .Father, says he, it is with no small 
surprise, that I observe your choice of situation, by 
which you seem to neglect the most distant and de- 
lightful landscape that ever my eyes beheld. The 
hill, beneath which you have contrived to hide your 
habitation, would have aflbrded you such a variety 
of natural curiosities, as to a person so contemplative, 
must appear highly entertaining : and as the cell to 
which you are advancing is seemingly of your own 
contrivance, methinks it is probable you would so have 
placed it, as to present them, in all their beauty, to 
your eye. 

The hermit made him this answer. My son, says 
he, the evening approaches, and you have deviated 
from your way. 1 would not therefore detain you by 
my story, did I not imagine the moon would prove 
a safer guide to you, than that setting sun which you 
must otherwise rely upon. Enter, therefore, for a 
while into my cave, and I will give you then some 
account of my adventures, which \vill solve your 



AND MANNERS. 29 

doubts perhaps more effectually than any method I 
can propose. But before you enter my lone abode, 
calculated only for the use of meditation, dare to 
contemn superfluous magnificence, and render thy- 
self worthy of the being I contemplate. 

Know then, that I owe what the world is pleased to 
call my ruin (and indeed justly, were it not for the 
use which I have made of it) to an assured depen- 
dence, in a literal sense, upon confused and distant 
prospects : a consideration, which hath indeed so af- 
fected me, that I shall never henceforth enjoy a 
landscape that lies at so remote a distance, as not to 
exhibit all its parts. And indeed were I to form the 
least pretentions to what your world calls taste, I 
might even then perhaps contend that a well discri- 
minated landscape was at all times to be preferred 
to a distant and promiscuous azure. 

I was born in the parish of a nobleman who arri- 
ved to the principal management of the business of 
the nation. The heir of his family and myself were 
of the same age, and for sometime school fellows. 
I had made considerable advances in his esteem ; 
and the mutual affection we entertained for each 
other, did not long remain unobserved by his family 
or my own. He was sent early upon his travels pur- 
suant to a very injudicious custom, and my parents 
were solicited to consent that I might accompany 
him. Intimations were given to my friends, that a 
person of such importance as his father might con- 
tribute much more to my immediate promotion, than 
the utmost diligence I could use in pursuit of it. 
My father, I remember, assented with reluctance : 
my mother, fired with the ambition of her son's fu- 
ture greatness, through much importunity, " wrung 
from him his slow leave." I, for my own part, want- 
ed no great persuasion. We made what is called 
the great tour of Europe. We neither of us, I be- 
lievf . could be said to want natural sense j but being 
C 2 



so ESSAYS ON MEN 

banished so eiwly in life, were more attentive to eve- 
ry deviation from our own indifferent customs, than 
to any useful examination of their polices or man- 
ners. Judgment, for the most part, ripens very slow- 
ly. Fancy often expands her blossoms all at once. 

We were now returning home from a six year's 
absence : anticipating the caresses of our parents and 
relations, when my ever honoured companion was at- 
tacked by a fever. All possible means of safety prov- 
ing finally ineffectual, he accosted me in one of his 
lucid intervals as follows : 

Alas 1 my Clytander 1 my life, they tell me, is of 
very short continuance. The next paroxysm of my 
fever will probably be conclusive. 

The prospect of this sudden change does not allow 
tne to speak the gratitude I owe thee ; much less to 
reward the kindness on which it is so justly ground- 
ed. Thou knov/est that I was sent away early from 
my parents, and the more rational part of my life 
has been passed with thee alone. It cannot be but 
they will prove solicitous in their enquiries concern- 
ing me. Thy narrative will awake their tenderness, 
and they canncit but conceive some for their son's 
companion and his friend. What I would hope is, 
that they will render thee some services, in place of 
those their beloved son intended thee, and which I 
can unfeignedly assert, would have been only boun- 
ded by my power. My dear companion ! farewell. 
All other temporal enjoyments have I banished from 
my heart ; but friendship lingers long, and 'tis with 
tears I say farewell 

My concern was truly so great, that, upon my ar- 
rival in my native country, it was not at all encreas- 
ed by the consideration that the nobleman, on whom 
my hopes depended, was removed from all his places. 
I waited on him ; and he appeared sensibly grieved 
that the friendship he had ever professed could now 
so little avail me. He recommended me, hov^ever, 



AND MANNERS. 31 

to a friend of his that was then of the successful 
party, and who, he was assured, would, at his re- 
quest, assist me to the utmost of his power. I was 
now in the prime of life, which I effectually consum- 
ed upon the empty forms of our court-attendance. 
Hopes arose before me like bubbles upon a stream ; 
as quick succeeding one another, as superficial and 
as vain. Thus busied in my pursuit, and rejecting 
the assistance of cool examination, I found the win- 
ter of life approaching, and nothing procured to shel- 
ter or protect me when my second patron died. A 
race of new ones appeared before me, and even yet 
kept my expectations in play. I wished indeed I had 
retreated sooner ; but to retire at last unrecompenc- 
ed, and when a few months attendance might hap- 
pen to prove successful, was beyond all power of re- 
solution. 

However, after a few years more attendance, dis- 
tributed in equal proportions upon each of these new 
patrons, I at length obtained a place of much trou- 
ble and small emolument. On the acceptance of 
this, my eyes seemed open all at once. I had no 
passion remaining for the splendor which was grown 
familiar tome, and for civility and confinement I en- 
tertained an utter aversion. I officiated however for 
a few weeks in my post, wondering still more and 
more how I could ever covet the life I led. I was ever 
most sincere, but sincerity clashed with my situation 
every moment of the day. In short, I returned home 
to a paternal income, not indeed intending that aus- 
tere life in which you at present find me engaged.... 
I thought to content myself with common necessa- 
ries, and to give the rest, if aught remained, to cha- 
rity; determined, however, to avoid all appearance 
of singularity. But alas ! to my great surprise, the 
person who supplied my expences had so far em- 
broiled my little aflairs, that, when my debts, &c. 
were discharged, I was unable to subsist in any bet- 



33 ESSAYS ON MEN 

ter manner than I do at present. I grew at first en- 
tirely melancholy ; left the country where I was born, 
and raised the humble roof that covers me in a coun- 
try where I am not known. I now begin to think 
myself happy in my present way of life : I cultivate 
a few vegetables to support me ; and the little well 
there, is a very clear one. I am now an useless in- 
dividual ; little able to benefit mankind ; but a prey 
to shame, and to confusion, on the first glance of 
every eye that knows me. My spirits are indeed 
something raised by a clear sky, or a meridian sun ; 
but as to the extensive views of the country, I think 
them well enough exchanged for the warmth and 
comfort which this vale affords me. Ease is at least 
the proper ambition of age, and it is confessedly my 
supreme one. 

Yet will I not permit you to depart from an her- 
mit, without one instructive lesson. Whatever situ- 
ation in life you ever wish or propose for yourself, ac- 
quire a clear and lucid idea of the inconveniences 
attending it. I utterly contemned and rejected, af- 
ter a month's experience, the very post I had all my 
life time been solicitous to procure. 



ON DJSflNCl'IONS, O-RDEBS, AND DIGNITIES, 

THE subject turned upon the nature of socie- 
ties, ranks, orders, and distinctions, amongst men. 
A gentleman of spirit, and of the popular faction, 
had been long declaiming against any kind of hon- 
ours that tended to elevate a body of people into a 
distinct species from the rest of the nation. Parti- 
cularly titles and blue ribbands were the object of his 
indi§;nation. They were, as he pretended, too in- 



AND MANNERS. 53 

vidious an ostentation of superiority, to be allowed 
in any nation that styled itself free. Much was said 
upon the subject of appearances, so far as they were 
countenanced by law or custom. The bishop's lawn ; 
the marshal's truncheon ; the baron's robe ; and the 
judge's peruke, were considered only as necessary 
substitutes, where genuine purity, real courage, na- 
tive dignity, and suitable penetration, were wanting 
to complete the characters of those to whom they 
were assigned. 

It was urged that policy had often effectually made 
it a point to dazzle in order to enslave ; and instan- 
ces were brought of groundless distinctions borne 
about in the glare of day by certain persons, who, 
being stripped of them, would be less esteemed than 
the meanest plebeian. 

He acknowledged, indeed, that kings, the foun- 
tains of all political honour, had hitherto shewn no 
complaisance to that sex whose softer dispositions 
rendered them more excusably fond of such peculia- 
rities. 

That, in favour of the ladies, he should esteem 
himself sufficiently happy in the honour of inventing 
one order, which should be styled, The powerful or- 
der of beauties. 

That their number in Great Britain should be lim- 
ited to live thousand ; the dignity for ever to be con- 
ferred by the queen alone, who should be styled 
sovereign of the order, and, the rest, the compa- 
nions. 

That the instalment should be rendered a thousand 
times more ceremonious, the dresses more superb, 
and the plumes more enormous, than those already 
in use a»nongst the companions of the garter. 

That the distinguishing badge of this order should 
be an artificial nosegay, to be worn on the left breast ; 
consisting of a lily and a rose, the proper emblems 



34 ESSAYS ON MEN 

of complexion, and intermixed with a branch of 
myrtle, the tree sacred to ^'enlls. 

That instead of their shields being affixed to the 
stalls appointed for this order, there should be a gal- 
lery erected to receive their pictures at full length. 
Their portraits to be taken by four painters of the 
greatest eminence, and he whose painting was pre- 
ferred, to be styled A knight of the rose and lily. 

That when any person addressed a letter to a lady 
of this order, the style should always be To the Right 
beautiful Miss or Lady such-a-one. 

He seemed for some time undetermined whether 
they should forfeit their title upon marriage ; but at 
length, for many reasons, proposed it should be con- 
tinued to them. 

And thus far the gentleman proceeded in his ha- 
rangue ; when it was objected that the queen, unless 
she unaccountably chose to mark out game for her 
husband, could take no sort of pleasure in conferring 
this honour where it was most due : That as ladies 
grew in years, this epithet of beautiful would bur- 
lesque them ; and, in short, considering the frailty 
of beauty, there was no lasting compliment that 
could be bestowed upon it. 

^ At this the orator smiled ; and acknowledged it 
was true : But asked at the same time, why it was. 
more absurd to style a lady right beautiful, in the 
days of her deformity, than to term a peer right hon- 
ourable when he grew a scandal to inankind ? 

That this was sometimes the case, he said, was 
not to be disputed ; because titles have been some- 
times granted to a worthless son, in consequence of 
a father's enormous wealth most unjustly acquired. 
And fev/ had ever surpassed in viilany the right hon- 
ourable the earl of A 

The company was a little surprised at the sophis- 
try of our declaimunt. However, it was replied to, 



AND MANNERS. 35 

by a person present, that Lord 's title being fic- 
titious, no one ought to instance him to the disad- 
vantage of the p. ...rage, who had, strictly speaking, 
never been of that number. 



ON THE SAME SVE^ECr. 

THE declaimant, I before mentioned, continu- 
ed his harangue. There are, said he, certain epi- 
thets which so frequently occur, that they are the less 
considered ; and which are seldom or never exam- 
ined, on account of the many opportunities of exami- 
nation that present themselves. 

Of this kind is the word Gentleman. This word, 
on its first introduction, was given, I suppose, to 
freemen, in opposition to vassals : these being the 
two classes into which the nation was once divided*. 
The freeman was he, who was possessed of land, 
and could therefore subsist without manual labour ; 
the vassal, he who tenanted the land, and was oblig- 
ed to his thane for the necessaries of life. The dif- 
ferent manners we may presume, that sprung from 
their difi'erent situations and connexions, occasioned 
the one to be denominated a civilized or gentle per- 
sonage ; and the other to obtain the name of a mere 
rustic or villain. 

But upon the publication of crusades, the state of 
things was considerably altered : It was then that 
every freeman distinguished the shield which he wore 

* As the author is not writing a treatise on the feudal law, 
but a moral essay; any little inaccuracies, it is to be hoped, 
will be overlooked by those, who, from several late treatises on 
this subject, might expect great exactness and precision in a se- 
rious discussion of this point. 



36 ESSAYS ON MEN 

with some painted emblem or device ; and this, in 
order that his fellow-combatants might attribute to 
him his proper applause, which, upon account of si- 
milar accoutrements, might be otherwise subject to 
misapplication. 

Upon this there arose a distinction betwixt free- 
man and freeman. All who had served in those re- 
ligious wars continued the use of their first devi- 
ces, but all devices were not illustrated by the same 
pretensions to military glory. 

However, these campaigns were discontinued : 
fresh families sprung up ; who, without any pretence 
to mark themselves with such devices as these holy 
combatants, were yet as desirous of respect, of esti- 
mation, of distinction. It would be tedious enough to 
trace the steps by which money establishes even ab- 
surdity. A court of heraldry sprung up, to supply 
the place of crusade exploits, to grant imaginary 
shields and trophies to fdmiiies that never wore real 
armour, and it is but of late that it has been disco- 
vered to have no real jurisdiction. 

Yet custom is not at once overthrown ; and he is 
even now deemed a gentleman who has arms record- 
ed in the Herald's office, and at the same time fol- 
lows none, except a liberal employment. 

Allowing this distinction, it is obvious to all who 
consider, that a churlish, morose, illiterate clown ; 
a lazy, beggarly, sharping vagabond ; a stupid, lub- 
berly, inactive sot, or pick-pocket, nay even an high- 
wayman, may be nevertheless a gentleman as by law 
established. In short, that the definition may, to- 
gether with others include also the filth, the scum, 
and the dregs of the creation. 

But do we not appear to disallow this account, when 
we say, " such or such an action v/as not done in a 
gentleman-like manner," " such usage was not the 
behaviour of a gentleman," and so forth. We seem 
thus to insinuate that the appellation of gentleman 



AND MANNERS. 57 

regards morals as well as family ; and that integrity, 
politeness, generosity, and affability, have the tru- 
est claim to a distinction of this kind. Whence then 
shall we suppose was derived this contradiction ? 
Shall we say that the plebeians, having the virtues 
on their sides, by degrees removed this appellation 
from the basis of family to that of merit ; which 
they esteemed, and not unjustly, to be the true and 
proper pedestal ? This the gentry will scarce allow. 
Shall we then insist that every thing great and god- 
like was heretofore the achievement of the gentry ? 
But this, perhaps, will not obtain the approbation of 
the commoners. 

To reconcile the difference, let us support the de- 
nomination may belong equally to two sorts of men. 
The one, what may be styled a gentleman de jure, 
viz. a man of generosity, politeness, learning, taste, 
genius or affability ; in short, accomplished in all 
that is splendid, or endeared to us by all that is 
amiable, on the one side : and on the other, a gen- 
tleman de facto, or what, to English readers, I would 
term a gentleman as by law established. 

As to the latter appellation, what is really essen- 
tial, or, as logicians would say, " quarto modo pro- 
prium," is a real, or at least a specious claim to the 
inheritance of certain coat-armour from a second or 
more distant ancestor ; and this unstained by any 
mechanical or illiberal employment. 

We may discover, on this state of the case, that, 
however material a difference this distinction supposes 
yet it is not wholly impracticable for a gentleman de 
jure to render himself in some sort a gentleman de 
facto. A certain sum of money, deposited in the 
hands of my good friends Norroy or Rougedragon, 
will convey to him a coat of arms descending from 
as many ancestors as he pleases. On the other hand, 
the gentleman de facto may become a gentleman al- 
so de jure, by the acquisition of certain virtues, 

D 



38 ESSAYS ON MEN 

which are rarely all of them unattainable. The lat- 
ter, I must acknowledge, is the more difficult task ; 
at least we may daily discover crowds acquire suffi- 
cient wealth to buy gentility, but very few that pos- 
sess the virtues which ennoble human nature, and 
(in the best sense of the word) constitute a gentle- 
man. 



A CHAEACfER* 

HE was a youth so amply furnished with every 
excellence of mind, that he seemed alike capable of 
acquiring or disregarding the goods of fortune. He 
had indeed all the learning and erudition that can be 
derived from universities, without the pedantry and 
ill manners which are too often their attendants. 
What few or none acquire by the most intense assi- 
duity, he possessed by nature ; I mean, that elegance 
of taste, which disposed him to admire beauty under 
it's great variety of appearances. It passed not un- 
observed by him either in the cut of a sleeve, or the 
integrity of a moral action. The proportion of a sta- 
tue, the convenience of an edifice, the movement in 
a dance, and the complexion of a cheek or flower, af- 
forded him sensations of beauty ; that beauty which 
inferior geniuses are taught coldly to distinguish ; or 
to discern rather than ftel. He could trace the ex- 
cellencies both of the courtier and the student ; who 
are mutually ridiculous in the eyes of each other. 
He had nothing in his character that could obscure 
so great accomplishments, beside the want, the total 
want, of a desire to exhibit them. Through this it 
came to pass, that what would have raised another 
to the heights of reputation, was oftentimes in him 



AND MANXERS. SV 

passed over unregarded. For, in respect to ordinary- 
observers, it is requisite to lay some stress yourself, 
on what you intend should be remarked by others ; 
and this never was his way. His knowledge of books 
had in some degree diminished his knowledge of the 
world ; or, rather, the external forms and manners 
of it. H isordinary conversation was, perhaps, rather 
too pregnant with sentiment, the usual fault of rigid 
students ; and this he would in some degree have 
regulated better, did not the universality of his ge- 
nius, together with the method of his education, so 
largely contribute to this amiable defect. This kind 
of awkwardness (since his modesty will allow it no 
better name) may be compared to the stifCness of a 
fine piece of brocade, whose turgescency indeed con- 
stitutes, and is inseparable from, its value. He gave 
delight by an happy boldness in the extirpation of 
common prejudices ; which he could as readily pene- 
trate, as he could humorously ridicule : and he had 
such entire possession of the hearts as well as under- 
standings of his friends, that he could soon make the 
most surprising paradoxes believed and well-accept- 
ed. His image, like that of a sovereign, could give 
an additional value to the most precious ore ; and 
we no sooner believed our eyes that it was he who 
spake it, than we as readily believed whatever he had 

to say. In this he differed from W r, that he 

had tlie talents of rendering the greatest virtues un- 
envied : whereas the latter shone more remarkably 
in making his very faults agreeable : I meiui in re- 
gard to those few he had to exercise his skill. 

N. B. This v/as written, in an extempore-manner, 
on my friend's wall at Oxford, with a black lead pen- 
cil? 1735, and intended for his character. 



40 ESSAYS ON MEN 



ON RESERVE A FRAGMENf, 

TAKING an evening's walk with a friend in the 
country, among many grave remarks, he was making 
the following observation. There is not, says he, 
any one quality so inconsistent with respect, as what 
is commonly called familiarity. You do not find 
one in fifty, whose regard is proof against it. At 
the same time, it is hardly possible to insist upon 
such a deference as will render you ridiculous, if it 
be supported by common sense. Thus much at least 
is evident, that your demands will be so successful, 
as to procure a greater share than if you had made 
no such demand. I may frankly own to you, Lean- 
der, that I frequently derived uneasiness, from a 
familiarity with such persons as despised every thing 
they could obtain with ease. Were it not better, 
therefore, to be somewhat frugal of our affability, at 
least to allot it only to the few persons of discernment 
who can make the proper distinction betwixt real dig- 
nity and pretended : to neglect those characters, which 
being impatient to grow familiar, are at the same 
time very far from familiarity-proof: to have post- 
humous fame in view, which affords us the most plea- 
sing landscape : to enjoy the amusement of reading, 
and the consciousness that reading paves the way to 
general esteem : to preserve a constant regularity of 
temper, and also of constitution, for the most part 
but little consistent with a promiscuous intercourse 
with men : to shun all illiterate, though ever so jo- 
vial assemblies, insipid, perhaps, when present, and 
upon reflection painful : to meditate on those absent 
or departed friends, who value or valued us for those 
qualities with which they were best acquainted : to 
partake with such a friend as you, the delights of a 
studious and rational retirement.. ..Are not these the 
paths that lead to happiness I 



AND MANNERS. 41 

In answer to this (for he seemed to feel some mor- 
tification) I observed, that what we lost by familiarity 
in respect, was generally made up to us by the affec- 
tion it procured ; and that an absolute solitude was so 
very contrary to our natures, that were he excluded 
from society but for a single fortnight, he would be 
exhilarated at the sight of the first beggar that he saw. 

What follows were thoughts thrown out in our fur- 
ther discourse upon the subject : without order or 
connexion, as they occur to my remembrance. 

Some reserve is a debt to prudence ; as freedom, 
and simplicity of conversation is a debt to good-nature. 

There would not be any absolute necessity for re- 
serve, if the world were honest: yet, even then, it 
would prove expedient. For, in order to attain any 
degree of deference, it seems necessary that people 
should imagine you have more accomplishments than 
you discover. 

It is on this depends one of the excellencies of the 
judicious Virgil. He leaves you something ever to 
imagine : and such is the constitution of the human 
mind, that we think, so highly of nothing, as of that 
•whereof we do not see the bounds. This, as Mr. 
Burke ingeniously observes, affords the pleasure 
when we survey a Cylinder* ; and Sir John Suckling 
says, 

*' They who know all the wealth they have, are poor; 
He's only rich, who cannot tell his store." 

A person that would secure to himself great def- 
erence, will, perhaps, gain his point by silence, as 
effectually as by any thing he can say. 

To be, however, a niggard of one's observation, 
is so much worse than to hoard up one's money, as 
the former may be both imparted and retained at the 
same time. 

* Treatise of the sublime and beauuful. 
D3 



42 ESSAYS ON MEN 

Men oftentimes pretend to proportion their respect 
to real desert ; but a supercilious reserve and distance 
wearies them into a compliance -with more. This 
appears so very manifest to many persons of the lof- 
ty character, that they use no better means to acquire 
respect, than like hig-hwaymen to make a demand of 
it. They will, like Empedocles, jump into the fire, 
rather than betray the mortal part of their character. 

It is from the same principle of distance that na- 
tions are brought to believe that their great duke 
knovveth all things; as is the case in some countries. 

«' Men, while no human foi-m or fault they see, 

Excuse the want of ev'n humanity; 

And eastern kings, who vulgar views disdain. 

Require no worth to fix their awful reign. 

You cannot say in truth what may disgrace 'em. 

You know in what predicament to place 'em. 

Alas ! in all the glare of light reveal'd, 

Ev'n virtue charms us less than vice conceal'd ! 

" For some small worth he had, the man w^as priz'd. 
He added frankness., ..and he grew despis'd." 

We want comets, not ordinary planets : 

«' Txdet quotidianarum harum formarum.'"' terenc^. 

" Hunc cjelum, &, Stellas, & decendentia certls 
Tempora momentis, sunt qui formidine nulla 
Imbuti spectent." 

Virtues, like essences, lose their fragrance when 
exposed. They are sensitive plants, which will not 
bear too familiar approaches. 

Let us be careful to distinguish modesty, which is 
ever amiable, from reserve, which is only prudent.... 
A man is hated sometimes for pride, when it was an 
excess of humility gave the occasion. 

What is often' termed shyness, is nothing more 
than refined sense, and an indifference to common 
observations. 



AND MANNERS. 4-3 

The reserved man's intimate acquaintance are, for 
the most part, fonder of him, than the persons of a 
more affable character, i. e. he pays them a greater 
compliment than the other can do his, as he distin- 
guishes them more. 

It is indolence, and the pain of being upon one's 
guard, that makes one hate an artful character. 

The most reserved of men, that will not exchange 
two syllables together in an English cofFee-house, 
should they meet at Ispahan, would drink sherbet and 
eat a mess of rice together. 

The man of shew is vain : the reserved man is 
proud more properly. The one has greater depth ; 
the other a more lively imagination. ...The one is 
more frequently respected ; the other more generally 
beloved. The one a Cato : the other a Cxsar....Vide 
Sallust. 

What Cxsar said of " Rubicundos amo ; pallidos 
timeo ;" may be applied to familiarity, and to re- 
serve. 

A reserved man often makes it a rule to leave com- 
pany with a good speech : and I believe sometimes 
proceeds so far as to leave company, because he has 
made one. Yet it is fate often, like the mole, to 
imagine himself deep, when he is near the surface. 

"NVere it prudent to decline this reserve, and this 
horror of disclosing foibles ; to give up apart of cha- 
racter to secure the rest? The world will certainly 
insist upon having some part to pull to pieces. Let 
us throw out some follies to the envious ; as we give 
up counters to a highwayman, or a barrel to a whale, 
in order to save one's money and one's ship : to let 
it make exceptions to one's head of hair, if one caa 
escape being stabbed in the heart. 

The reserved man should drink double glasses. 

Prudent men lock up their motives ; letting fami- 
liars have a key to their heart, as to their garden. 



44 ESSAYS ON MEN 

A reserved man is in continual conflict with ihc 
social part of his nature : and even grudges himself 
the laugh into which he sometimes is betrayed. 

** Seldom he smiles.... 

And smiles in such a sort as he disdain'd 

Himself.. ..that could be mov'd to smile at any thing...." 

" A fool and his words are soon parted ;" for so 
should the proverb run. 

Common understandings, like cits in gardening, 
allow no shades to their picture. 

Modesty often passes for errant haughtiness ; as 
what is deemed spirit in a horse proceeds from fear. 

The higher character a man supports, the more 
he should regard his minutest actions. 

The reserved man should bring a certificate of his 
honesty, before he be admitted into company. 

Reserve is no more essentially connected v/ith un- 
derstanding, than a church organ with devotion, or 
wine with good nature*. 



ON EXTERNAL FIGURE* 

THERE is a young gentleman in my parish, 
who, on account of his superior equipage, is esteem- 
ed universally more proud and haughty than his 
neighbours. It is frequently hinted, that he is by 
no means entitled to so splendid an appearance, either 
by his birth, his station, or his fortune ; and that it 
is of consequence mere pride that urges him to live 
beyond his rank, or renders him blind to the know- 

* These were no other than a collection of hints, when I 
proposed to write a poetical essay on Reserve. 



AND MANNERS. 45 

ledge of it. With all this fondness for external 
splendour, he is a most affable and ingenious man ; 
and for this reason I am inclined to vindicate him, 
when these things are mentioned to his disadvantage. 

In the first place, it is by no means clear, that dress 
and equipage are sure signs of pride. Where it is 
joined with a supercilious behaviour, it becomes then 
a corroborative testimony. But this is not arlways 
the case : the refinements of luxury in equipage, or 
a table, are perhaps as often the gratifications of fan- 
cy, as the consequence of an ambition to surpass and 
eclipse our equals. Whoever thinks that taste has 
nothing to do here, must confine the expression to 
improper limits ; assuredly imagination may find its 
account in them, wholly independent of worldly ho- 
mage and considerations more invidious. 

In the warmth of friendship for this gentleman, I 
am sometimes prompted to go farther. I insist, it 
is not birth or fortune only that give a i>erson claim 
to a splendid appearance ; that it may be conferred 
by other qualifications, in which my friend is ac- 
knowledged to iaave a share. 

I have sometime urged that remarkable ingenui- 
ty, any great degree of merit in learning, arts or 
sciences, are a more reasonable authority ibr a splen- 
did appearance than those which are commonly pre- 
sumed to be so. That there is something more per- 
sonal in this kind of advantages than in rank or for- 
tune, will not be denied : and surely there ought to 
be some proportion observed betwixt the case and the 
thing enclosed. The propensity of rich and worth- 
less people to appear with a splendor upon all occa- 
sions, puts us in mind of a country shopkeeper, who 
gilds his boxes in order to be the receptacle of pitch 
or tobacco. It is not unlike the management of our 
theatres royal, where you see a piece of candle ho- 
noured with a crown. 



46 ESSAYS ON MEN 

I have generally considered those as privileged 
people, who are able to support the character they 
assume. Those who are incapable of shining but by 
dress, would do well to consider that the contrast be- 
twixt them and their cloaths turns out much to their 
disadvantage. It is on this account I have sometimes 
observed with pleasure some noblemen of immense 
fsrtune to dress exceeding plain. 

If dress be only allowable to persons of family, it 
may then be considered as a sort of family livery, 
and Jack the groom may, with equal justice, pride 
himself upon the gaudy wardrobe his master gives 
him. Nay more....for a gentleman, before he hires 
•a servant, will require some testimony of his merit ; 
whereas the master challenges his own right to splen- 
dor, though possessed of no merit at all. 

Upon my present scheme of dress, it may seem 
to answer some very good purposes. It is then 
established on the same foundation, as the judge's 
robe and the prelate's lawn. If dress were only au- 
thorised in men of ingenuity, we should find many 
aiming at the previous merit, in hopes of the subse- 
quent distinction. The finery of an empty fellow 
would render him as ridiculous as a star and garter 
■would one never knighted : and men would use as 
commendable a diligence to qualify themselves for a 
brocaded waistcoat, or a gold snuff-box, as they now 
do to procure themselves a right of investing their 
limbs in lawn or ermine. We should not esteem 
a man 'a coxcomb for his dress, until, by frequent con- 
versation, we discover a Haw in his title. If he was 
incapable of uttering a bon mot, the gold upon his 
coat would seem foreign to his circumstances. A 
man should not wear a French dress, till he could 
give an account of the best French authors ; and 
should be versed in all the oriental languages before 
he should presume to wear a diamond. 



ANQ MANNERS. 47 

It may be urged, that men of the greatest merit 
may not be able to shew it in their dress, on account 
of their slender income. But here it should be con- 
sidered that another part of the world would find their 
equipages so much reduced by a sumptuary law of 
this nature, that a very moderate degree of splendor 
would distinguish them more than a greater does at 
present. 

What I propose, however, upon the whole is, that 
men of merit should be allowed to dress in propor- 
tion to it ; but this with the privilege of appearing 
plain, v/henever they found an expediency in so do- 
ing : as a nobleman lays aside his garter, when he 
sees no valuable consequence in the discovery of his 
quality. 



A CHARACTER* 

•< Animje nil magnae laudis egentes." 

THERE is an order of persons in the world, 
whose thoughts never deviate from the common road ; 
w hatever events occur, whatever objects present them- 
selves, their observations are as uniform as thougU 
they were the consequence of instinct. There is no- 
thing places these men in a more insignificant point 
of light, than a comparison of their ideas with the 
refinements of some great genius. I shall only add, 
by way of reflection, that it is people of this stamp, 
who, together with the soundest health, often enjoy 
the greatest equanimity ; their passions, like dull 
steeds, being least apt to endanger or misguide them : 
yet such is the fatality 1 Men of genius are often 



4S ESSAYS ON BIEN 

expected to act with most discretion, on account of 
that very fancy which is their greatest impediment. 

I was taking a view of Westminster-abbey, with 
an old gentleman of exceeding honesty, but the same 
degree of understanding as that I have described. 

There had nothing passed in our way thither, be- 
side the customary salutations, and an endeavour to 
decide with accuracy upon the present temperature of 
the weather. On passing over the threshold, he ob- 
served with an air of thoughtfulness, that it was a 
brave ancient place. 

I told him, I thought there was none more suita- 
ble, to moralize upon the futility of all earthly glory, 
as there was none which contained the ashes of men 
that had acquired a greater share of it. On this he 
gave a nod of approbation, but did not seem to com- 
prehend me. 

Silence ensued for many minutes ; when having; 
had time to reflect upon the monuments of men fa- 
mous in their generations, he stood collected in him- 
self; assuring me " there was no sort of excellence 
could exempt a man from death." 

I applauded the justice of his observation ; and 
said, it was not only my present opinion, but had 
been so for a number of years. " Right," says he, 
*' and for my own part I seldom love to publish my 
remarks upon a subject, till I have had them con- 
firmed to me by a long course of experience." 

This last maxim, somewhat beyond his usual 
depth, occasioned a silence of some few minutes. 
The spring had been too much bent to recover im- 
mediately its wonted vigour. We had taken some 
few turns, up and down the left hand aisle, when he 
caught sight of a monument somewhat larger than 
the rest, and more calculated to make impression upon 
an ordinary imagination. As I remember, it was rais- 
ed to an ancestor of the Duke of Newcastle. " Well," 
says he, with an air of cunning, " this is indeed a 



AND MANNER&. 49 

fine piece of workmanship ; but I cannot conceive 
this finery is any signilication to the person buried 
there." I told him, I tliought not ; and that, under 
a notion of respect to the deceased, people were fre- 
quently imposed upon by their own pride and affec- 
tation. 

\\ e were now arrived at the monument of Sir 
Georj^e Chamberlain ; where my friend had just pe- 
rused enough to inform him that he was an eminent 
physician, when he broke out with precipitation, and 
as though some important discovery had struck his 
fancy on a sudden. I listened to him with attention, 
till I found him labouring to insinuate that physicians 
themselves could not save their lives when their time 
was come. 

He had not proceeded many steps from it before 
he beckoned to our Ciceroni. " Friend," says he, 
pointing with his cane, '' how long has that gentle- 
man been dead ?" The man set him right in that 
particular ; afler which putting on a woeful counte- 
nance, " Well," says he, " to behold how fast time 
flies away 1 'lis but a small time to look back upon, 
since he and I met at the Devil*. Alas, continued he, 
" we shall never do so again :" indulging myself with 
a pun that escaped me on a sudden, 1 told him 1 
hoped not; and immediately took my leave. 

This old gentleman, as I have since heard, passed 
his life chielly in the country ; where it faintly par- 
ticipated either of pleasure or of pain. His chief 
delights indeed were sensual, but those of the less 
vigorous kind; an afternoon's pipe, an evening walk, 
or a nap after dinner. His death, which happened, 
it seems, quickly after, was occasioned by an uniform 
application to Bostock's cordial, whatever his case 
required. Indeed his discourse, when any complain- 
ed of sickness, was a little exuberant in the praises 

* A well-known tavern near Temple-Bar. 
E 



■50 ESSAYS ON MEN 

of this noble cathartic. But his distemper proving 
of a nature to which this remedy was wholly foreign, 
as w^ell as this precluding the use of a more effectu- 
al recipe, he expired, not without the character of a 
most considerate person. I find, by one part of his 
will, he obliged his heir to consume a certain quan- 
tity of ale among his neighbours, on the day he was 
born ; and by another, left a ring of bells to the 
church adjoining to his garden. It looks as if the 
old gentleman had not only an aversion to much re- 
flection in himself, but endeavoured to provide against 
it in succeeding generations. 

I have heard that he sometimes boasted that he 
Avas a distant relation of Sir Roger deCoverley. 



JN OPINION OF GHOSl'S, 

IT is remarkable how much the belief of ghosts 
and apparitions of persons departed, has lost ground 
within these fifty years. This may perhaps be ex- 
plained by the general growth of knowledge ; and by 
the consequent decay of superstition, even in those 
kingdoms where it is most essentially interwoven 
with religion. 

The same credulity, which disposed the mind to 
believe the miracles of a popish saint, set aside at 
once the interposition of reason; and produced a 
fondness for the marvellous, which it was the priest's 
advantage to promote. 

It may be natural enough to suppose that a belief 
of this kind might spread in the days of popish in- 
fatuation. A belief, as much supported by igr.o- 
rance, as the ghosts themselves were indebted to the 
night. 



AND MANNERS. 51 

But whence comes it, that narratives of this kind 
have at any time been given, by persons of veracity, 
of judgment, and of learning ? men neither liable to 
be deceived themselves, nor to be suspected of an 
inclination to deceive others, though it were their 
interest ; nor who could be supposed to have any 
interest in it, even though it were their inclination ? 

Here seems a further explanation wanting than 
what can be drawn from superstition. 

I go upon a supposition, that the relations them- 
selves were false. For as to the arguments some- 
times used in tliis case, that had there been no trvie 
shilHng there had been no counterfeit, it seems whol- 
ly a piece of sophistry. The true shilling here 
should mean the living person ; and the counterfeit 
resemblance, the posthumous figure of him, that 
either strikes our senses or our imagination. 

Supposing no ghost then ever appeared, is it a 
consequence that no man could ever imagine that 
they saw the figure of a person deceased ; Surely 
those, who say this, little know the force, the ca- 
price, or the defects, of the imagination. 

Persons after a debauch of liquor, or under the 
inlluence of terror, or in the deliriuof a fever, or in 
a fit of lunacy, or even walking in tlieir sleep, have 
had their brain as deeply impressed with chimerical 
representations as they could possibly have been, had 
theii' representations struck their senses. 

I have mentioned but a few instances, wherein the 
brain is primarily affected. Others may be given 
perhaps not quite so common, where the stronger 
passions, either acute or chronical, have impressed 
their object upon the brain ; and this in so lively a 
manner, as to leave the visionary no room to doubt 
of their real presence. 

How difficult then must it be to undeceive a per- 
son as to objects thus imprinted? imprinted absolute- 
ly with the same force as their eyes themselves could 



52 ESSAYS ON MEN 

have poiirtrayed them ! and how many persons must 
there needs be, who could never be undeceived at 
all! 

Some of these causes might not improbably have 
given rise to the notion of apparitions, and when the 
notion had been once promulgated, it had a natural 
tendency to produce more instances. 

The gloom of night, that was productive of ter- 
ror, would be naturally productive of apparitions. 
The event confirmed it. 

The passion of grief for a departed friend, of hor- 
ror for a murdered enemy, of remorse for a wrong- 
ed testator, of love for (I mistress killed by inconstan- 
cy, of gratitude to a wife of long fidelity, of desire 
to be reconciled to one who died at variance, of im- 
patience to vindicate what was falsely construed, of 
propensity to consult with an adviser that is lost. ...The 
more faint as well as the more powerful passions, when 
bearing relation to a person deceased, have often, I 
fancy, with concurrent circumstances, been sufficient 
to exhibit the dead to the living. 

lUit, what is more, there seems no other account 
tliat is adequate to the case as I have stated it. Al- 
low this, and you have at once a reason, why the most 
upri,c;ht may iiave published a falsehood, and the most 
judicious confirmed an absurdity. 

Supposing then that apparitions of this kind may 
have some real use in God's moral government : is 
not any moral purpose, for which they may be em^ 
ployed, as effectually answered on my supposition, 
as the other? for surely it cannot be of any import- 
ance, by what means the brain receives these ima- 
ges. The effect, the conviction, and the resolution 
consequent, may be just the same in either of the 
cases. 

Such appears, to me at least, to be the true exis- 
tence of apparitions. 



AND MANNERS. 5J 

The reasons against any external apparition, among 
others that may be brought, are these that follow. 

They are, I think, never seen by day ; and dark- 
ness being the season of terror and uncertainty, and 
the imagination less restrained, they are never visi- 
ble to more than one person : which had more pro- 
bably been the case, were not the vision internal. 

They have not been reported to have appeared 
these twenty years. What cause can be assigned, 
were their existence real, for so great a change as 
their discontinuance ? 

The cause of superstition has lost ground for this 
last century ; the notion of ghosts has been, together 
exploded : a reason why the imagination should 
be less prone to conceive them ; but not a reason why 
they themselves should cease. 

Most of those, who relate that these spectres have 
appeared to them, have been persons either deeply 
superstitious in other respects ; of enthusiastic ima- 
ginations, or strong passions, which are the conse- 
quence ; or else have allowedly felt some perturba- 
tion at the time. 

Some few instances may be supposed, where the 
caprice of imaghiation, so very remarkable in dreams, 
may have presented fantasms to those that waked. 
I believe there are few but can recollect some, where- 
in it has wrought mistakes, at least equal to that of 
a white horse for a winding-sheet. 

To conclude. As my hypothesis supposes the chi- 
mera to give terror equal to the reality, our best 
means of avoiding it, is to keep a strict guard over 
our passions.... To avoid intemperance, as we v/ould a 
charnel-house ; and by making frequent appeals to 
cool reason and common sense, secure to ourselves 
the property of a well-regulated imagination. 



E 2 



54 KSSAYS ON MSN 



Ci.Y CARDS A FltAGMEN'T, 

WE had passed our evening- with some certain 

persons famous for their taste, their learning, and re- 
finement: But, as ill-luck would have it, two fellows, 
duller than the rest, had contrived to put themselves 
upon a level, by introducing a game at cards. 

It is a sign, said he, the world is far gone in ab- 
surdity, or surely the fashion of cards v.ould be ac- 
counted no small one. Is it not surprising that men 
of sense should submit to join in this idle custom, 
>vhich appears originally invented to supply its defi- 
ciency ? But such is the fatality ! imperfections 
give rise to fashions 1 and are followed by those w ho 
do not labour under the defects that introduced them. 
Nor is the hoop the only instance of a fashion inven- 
ted by those who found their account in it; and af- 
terwards countenanced by others to whose figure it 
was prejudicial. 

How can men, who value themselves upon their 
reilections, give encouragement to a practice, which 
puts an end to thinking ? 

I intimated the old allusion of the bow, that requires 
fresh vigour by a temporary relaxation. 

He answered, this might be applicable, provided I 
could shew, that cards did not require the pain of 
thinking ; and merely exclude from it, the profit and 
the pleasure. 

Cards, if one may guess from their first appear- 
ance, seem invented for the use of children ; and 
among the toys peculiar to infancy, the bells, the 
vrhistle, the rattle, and the hobby-horse, deserved 
their share of commendation. By degrees men, who 
came nearest to children in understanding and want 
of ideas, grew enamoured of the use of them as a suit- 
able entertainment. Others also, pleased to reflect 
on the innocent part of their lives, had recourse to 



AND MANNERS. 55 

this arnusement, as what recalled it to their minds. 
A knot of villains encreased the party ; who regard- 
less of that entertainment, which the former seemed 
to draw from cards, considered them in a more seri- 
ous light, nnd m.ade use of them as a more decent 
substitute to robbing on the road, or picking pock- 
ets. But men who propose to themselves a dignity 
of character, where will you find their inducement 
to this kind of game ? For difficult indeed were it to 
determine, whether it appear more odious among 
sharpers, or more empty and ridiculous among per- 
sons of character. 

Perhaps, replied I, your men of wit and fancy may 
favour this diversion, as giving occasion for the crop 
of jest and witticism, which naturally enough arises 
from the names and circumstances of the cards. 

He said, he would allow this as a proper motive, 
in case the men of wit and humour would accept the 
excuse themselves. 

In short, says he, as persons of ability are capable 
of furnishing out a much more agreeable entertain- 
ment ; when a gentleman offers me cards, I shall es- 
teem it as his private opinion that I have neither sense 
nor fancy. 

I asked how much he had lost His answer was, 

he did not much regard ten pieces ; but that it hurt 
him to have squandered them away on cards ; and that 
to the loss of conversation for which he would have 
given twenty. 



56 ESSAYS ON MEN 



ON HTPOCRISr, 

WERE hypocrites to pretend to no uncommon 
sanctity, their want of merit would be less discover- 
able. But pretensions of this nature bring- their 
characters upon the carpet. Those who endeavour 
to pass for the lights of the world must expect to at- 
tract the eyes of it. A small blemish is more easily 
discoverable in them, and more justly ridiculous, 
than a much greater in their neighbours. A small 
blemish also presents a clue, which very often con- 
ducts us through the most intricate mazes and dark 
recesses of their character. 

Notwithstanding the evidence of this, how often do 
we see pretence cultivated in proportion as virtue is 
neglected ! As religion sinks in one scale, pretence 
is exalted in the other. 

Perhaps, there is not a more effectual key to the 
discovery of hypocrisy than a censorious temper. 
The man possessed of real virtue knows the difficul- 
ty of attaining it ; and is, of course, more inclined to 
pity others, who happen to fail in the pursuit. The 
hypocrite, on the other hand, having never trod thfe 
thorny path, is less induced to pity those who desert 
it for the flowery one. He exposes the unhappy vic- 
tim without compuction, and even with a kind of tri- 
umph ; not considering that vice is the proper object 
of compassion ; or that propensity to censure is al- 
most a worse quality than any it can expose. 

Clelia was born in England, of Romish parents, 
about the time of the revolution. She seemed natu- 
rally framed for love, if you were to judge by her 
external beauties ; but if you build your opinion on 
her outward conduct, you would have deemed her as 
naturally averse to it. Numerous were the gar^ons 
of the polite and gallant nation, who endeavoured to 
overcome her prejudices, and to reconcile her man* 



AND MANNERS. 57 

ners to her form. Persons of rank, fortune, learning", 
wit, youth, and beauty sued to her ; nor had she any 
reason to quarrel with love for the shapes in whicli 
he appeared before her. Yet in vain were all appli- 
cations. Religion was her only object ; and she 
seemed resolved to pass her days in all the austeri- 
ties of the most rigid convent. To this purpose she 
sought out an abbess that presided over a nunnery in 
Languedoc, a small community, particularly remark- 
able for extraordinary instances of self-denial. The 
abbess herself exhibited a person in which chastity 
appeared indeed not very meritorious. Her charac- 
ter was perfectly well known before she went to pre- 
side over this little society. Her virtues were indeed 
such as she thought mos'. convenient to her circum- 
stances. Her fasts were the effects of avarice, and 
her devotions of the spleen. She considered the 
cheapness of house-keeping as the great reward of 
piety, and added profuseness to the seven deadly sins. 
She knew sack-cloth to be cheaper than brocade, and 
ashes than sweet powder. 

Her heart sympathized with every cup that was 
broken, and she instituted a fast for each domestic 
misfortune. She had converted her larder into a stu- 
dy, and the greater part of her library consisted of 
manuals for fasting-days. By these arts, and this 
way of life, she seemed to enjoy as srreat a freedom 
from inordinate desires, as the persons might be sup- 
posed to do, who were favoured with her smiles or 
her conversation. 

To this lady was Clelia admitted; and after the 
year of probation assumed the veil. 

Among many others who had solicited her notice, 
before she became a member of this convent, was 
Leander, a young physician of great learning and 
ingenuity. His personal accomplishments were at 
least equal to those of any of his rivals, and his pas- 
sion was superior. He urged in his behalf all that 



58 ESSAYS ON MEN 

wit, inspired by fondness, and recommended by per- 
son, dress, and equipage, could insinuate ; but in 
vain. She grew angry at the solicitations with which 
she resolved never to comply, and which she found 
so difficult to evade. 

But Clelia now had assumed the veil, and Lean- 
der was the most miserable of mortals. He had not 
so high an opiir'on of his fair one's sanctity and 2eal, 
as some other of her admirers : But he had a convic- 
tion of her beauty, and that altogether irresistible. 
His extravagant passion had produced in him a jea- 
lousy that was not easily eluded, 

" At regina dolos 

" Quid non sentit amor ?" 

He had observed his mistress go more frequently 
to her confessor, a young and blooming ecclesiastic, 
than was, perhaps, necessary for so much apparent 
purity, or, as he thought, consistent with it. It was 
enough to put a lover on the rack, and it had this ef- 
fect upon Lcander. His suspicions were by no means 
lessened, when he found the convent to which Clelia 
had given the preference before all others, was one 
where this young friar supplied a confessional chair. 

It happened that Leander was brought to the ab- 
bess in the capacity of a physician, and he had one 
more opportunity offered him of beholding Clelia 
through the grate. 

She, quite shocked at his appearance, burst out 
into a sudden rage, inveighing bitterly against his 
presumption, and calling loudly on the name of the 
blessed virgin and the holy friar. The convent was, 
in short, alarmed ; nor was Clelia capable of being 
pacified till the good man was called, in order to al- 
lay, by suitable applications, the emotions raised by 
this unexpected interview. 

Leander grew daily more convinced, that it was 
not only verbal communications which passed be- 



AND MANNERS. 59 

tween Clelia and the friar. This, however, he did 
not think himself fully warranted to disclose, till an 
accident of a singular nature, gave him an opportu- 
nity of receiving more ample testimony. 

The confessor had a favourite spaniel, which he 
had lost for some time, and was informed at length 
that he was killed, at a village in the neighbourhood, 
being evidently mad. The friar was at first not 
much concerned ; but in a little time recollected that 
the dog had snapped his fingers the very day before 
his elopement. A physician's advice was thought 
expedient on the occasion, and Leander was the next 
physician. He told him with great frankness, that 
no prescription he could write, had the sanction of 
so much experience as immersion in sea-water. 
The friar, therefore, the next day, set forward upon 
his journey, while Leander, not without a mischiev- 
ous kind of satisfaction, conveys the following lines 
to Clelia. 

" My charming Clelia, 
THOUGH I yet love you to distraction, I can- 
not but suspect that you have granted favours to your 
confessor, which you might with greater innocence, 
have granted to Leander. All I have to add is this, 
that armorous intercourses of this nature, which 
you have enjoyed with Friar Laurence, put you un- 
der the like necessity with him of seeking a remedy 
in the ocean. 

" Adieu ! Leander I" 

Imagine Clelia guilty ; and then imagine her con- 
fusion. To rail was insignificant, and to blame her 
physician was absurd, when she found herself under 
a necessity of pursuing his advice. The whole so- 
ciety was made acquainted with the journey she was 
undertaking, and the causes of it. It were unchari- 
table to suppose the whole community under the 



60 ESSAYS ON MEN 

same constraint with the unhappy Clelia. However, 
the greater part thought it decent to attend her. 
Some went as her companions, some for exercise, 
some for amusement, and the abbess herself as guar- 
dian of her train, and concerned in her society's 
misfortunes. 

What use I.eander made of his discovery is not 
known. Perhaps, when he had been successful in 
banishing the hypocrite, he did not shew himself ve- 
ry solicitous in his endeavours to reform the sinner. 

N. B. Written when I went to be dipped in the 
salt water. 



ON VANIfY* 

HISTORY preserves the memory of empires 
and of states, with which it necessarily interweaves 
that of heroes, kings, and statesmen. Biography af- 
fords a place to the remarkable characters of private 
men. There are likewise other subordinate testimo- 
nies, which serve to perpetuate, at least prolong, the 
memories of men, whose characters and stations give 
them no claim to a place in story. For instance, 
M'hen a person fails of making that figure in the world 
which he makes in the eyes of his own relations or 
himself, he is rarely dignified any farther than with 
his picture whilst he is living, or with an inscription 
upon his monument after his decease. Inscriptions 
have been so fallacious, that we begin to expect lit- 
tle from them beside elegance of style. To inveigh 
against the writers, for their manifest want of truth, 
were as absurd as to censure Homer for the beauties 

of an imaginary character But even paintings, in 

order to gratify the vanity of the person who be- 



AND MANNERS. 61 

speaks them, are taught, now-a-days, to flatter like 
epitaphs. 

Falsehoods upon a tomb or iDonument may be in- 
titled to some excuse in the afi'ection, the gratitude, 
and piety, of surviving friends. Even grief itself dis- 
poses us to magnify the virtues of a relation, as visi- 
ble ol)jects also appear larger through tears. lUit 
the man who through an idle vanity suffers his fea- 
tures to be belied or exchanged for others of a more 
agreeable make, may with great truth be said to lose 
his property in the portrait. In like manner, if he 
encourage the painter to belie his dress, he seenis to 
transfer his claim to the man with whose station his 
assumed trappings are connected. 

I remember a bag-piper, whose physiognomy was 
so remarkable and familiar to a club he attended, 
that it w^as agreed to have his picture placed over 
their chimney-piece. There was this remarkable in 
the fellow, that he chose always to go barefoot, though 
he was daily offered a pairof shoes. However, when 
the painter had been so exact as to omit this little piece 
of dress, the fellow offc:red all he had in the world, 
the whole produce of three night's harmony, to have 
those feet covered in the effigy, which he so much 
scorned to cover in the original. Perhaps he thought 
it a disgrace to his instiument to be eternized in the 
hands of so much apparent poverty. However, when 
a person of low station adorns himself with tro- 
phies to which he has no pretensions to aspire, he 
should consider the picture as actually telling a lie to 
posterity. 

The absurdity of this is evident, if a person as- 
sume to himself a mitre, a blue garter, or a coro- 
net, improperly ; but station maybe falsified by other 
decorations, as well as these. 

But I am driven into this grave discourse, on a 
subject perhaps not very important, by a real fit of 
spleen. 1 this morning saw a fellow drawn in a 

F 



6S ESSAYS ON MEN 

night-gown of so rich a stuff, that the expence, had 
he purchased such a one, would more than half have 
ruined hinn ; and another coxcomb, seated by his 
pciinter in a velvet chair, who would have been sur- 
prised at the deference paid him, had he been offer- 
ed a cushion. 



A'N ADVENTURE, 

" Gaudent prsenomine molles 

«• Auriculae" 

IT is a very conA'enient piece of knowledge for 
a person upon a journey, to know the compeliations 
with which it is proper to address those he happens 
to meet by his way. Some accuracy here may be 
of use to him who would be well directed either in 
the length or the tendency of his road; or be freed 
from any itinerary difficulties incident to those who 
do not know the country. It may not be indeed im- 
prudent to accost a passenger with a title superior 
to what he may appear to claim. This will seldcm 
fail -i diffuse a wonderful alacrity in his countenance ; 
and be, perhaps, a method of securing you from 
any mistake of greater importance. 

i was ltd into tliese observations by some solici- 
tudes I lately underwent, on account of my ignorance 
in these peculiarities. Beingsomewhat more versed 
in books than I can pretend to be in the orders of 
men, it was my fortune to undertake a journey, 
which I was to perform by means of enquiries. I 
had passed a number of miles without any sort of 
difficulty, by help of the manifold instructioiis that 
had been given me on my setting out. At length, 



AND MANNERS. 53 

bein£^ som*jthing dubious concerning my way, I met 
a person, whom, from his night-cap and several do- 
mestic p.vrts of dress, I deemed to be of the nei:^h- 
bourhood. His station of life appeared to me, to be 
what we call a gentleman-farmer ; a sort of subaU 
tern character, in respect of which the world seems 
not invariably determined. It is in short what King 
Charles the Second esteemed the happiest of all sta- 
tions ; superior to the toilsome task and ridiculous 
dignity of constable ; and as much inferior to the 
intricate practice and invidious decisions of a justice, 
of peace. " Honest man," says I, " be so good as 
to inform me whether I am in the way to Mirling- 
ton ?" He replied, with a sort of surliness, that he 
knew nothing of the matter ; and turned away with 
as much disgust, as though I had called him rogue 
or rascal. 

I did not readily penetrate the cause of his displea- 
sure, but proceeded on my way, with hopes to liiid 
other means of information. The next I met was a 
young fellow, dressed in all the pride of rural spruce- 
njss; and beside him, walked a girl in a dress 
agreeable to that of her companion. As I presumed 
him by no means averse to appear considerable in 
the eyes of his mistress, I supposed a compliment 
might not be disagreeable ; auvl enquiring Vac road 
to Mirlington, addressed him by the name of '* Mon- 
City." I'he fellow, whether to shew his wit befo;-e 
his mistress, or whether he was displeased with 
my familiarity, I cannot tell, directed nje to foll(;w a 
part of my face (which I was well assured could be no 
guide to me, and that other parts would foiiow of 
co.'ise(|Uence. 

'i'i)e next I met, appeared, by his look and gait, to 
stand high in his own opinion. I therefore judged 
the best way of proceeding was to adupt my phrase 
to his own ideas, and saluting him by the nan<e of 
*' Sir," desired to obtain ionie insight into my road. 



64 ESSAYS ON MEN 

My gentleman, uithoiit hesitation, gave me ample 
instructions for the rest of my journey. 

I passed on, musing with myself, \v!iy an appel- 
lation relative to fortune should be preferred to one 
founded on merit ; when I happened to behold a gen- 
tleman examining a sun-dial in his garden. " Friend," 
says I, " will you ttU me what a clock it is ?" He 
made me no sort of answer, and seemed as much dissa- 
tisfied with my openness of temper, as with the con- 
fidence 1 placed in his. ...The refusal of an answer in 
this case was not of much importance. I proceed- 
ed on my way, and happened to meet a very old wo- 
man, whom I determined to accost by the appella- 
tion of " Dame ;" and withal wished her a good 
night. 

But, alas ! she seemed so little pleased with the 
manner of my address, that she returned me no man- 
ner of thanks for my kind wishes as to her repose. 
It is not clear whether my phrase was faulty, in regard 
to lier dignity, or in respect of her age. But it is 
very probable she might conclude it an impropriety 
in respect of both. 

I had by this time found the inconvenience of an 
utter ignorance in rural distinctions. The future part 
of my journey afforded me yet farther mt-ansof con- 
viction. I was exposed to the danger of three quick- 
sands, by calling a girl " sweetheart," instead of 
" madam ;" and was within a foot of rushing down 
a precipice, by calling another, " Forsooth," wiio 
might easily have told me how to avoid it. 

In short, 1 found myself well or ill used, as I hap- 
pened, or TiOt, to suit my salutations to people's ideas 
of thtir own rank. Towards the last part of my 
stage, I was to pass a brook, so much swelled by 
land-floods, that the proper way through it was un- 
distinguishuble. A w ell-dressed gentleman was pas- 
sing kI bridge on my left hand. It was hereof much 
importance for \\\c to succeed in my enquiry. I ^^as, 



AND MANNERS. 65 

therefore, meclitating within myself which might be 
the most endearing* of all uppellutions ; and at 
last besought him to give me some ihslructions, un- 
<:ler the nan- of '' Honest Friend." He was not seem- 
ingly so much pleased as I assured myself he would 
be, and trudged onward without reply. Alter this, I 
had not gone many steps (out of the path, for so it 
proved) before 1 found mystlf and horse plunged 
headlong in the brook; and my late honest friend in 
a laughter at our downfall. 

I made a shift, however, to recover both myself 
and horse ; and, after a few more difficulties, arriv- 
ed at tlie end of my journey. I have since made 
strict enquiry into the due application of such infe- 
rior titles, and may, perhaps, communicate them to 
you, on some future occasions. In the mean time, 
you may, if you please, consider the vast importance 
of superior titles, when there is no one so incon- 
siderable, but there is also a mind that it can influ- 
ence. 

When you reflect upon this subject, you .'ill, per- 
haps, be less severe on your friend , who, you 

tell me, is now trafficing for this species of dignity. 

Learn to be wise then from others harm ; and do 
not forget to observe decorum, on every occasion 
that you may have to address him for the future. 
Pretend no more at the close of your epistle to be his 
faithful servant, much less his afiectionate one. Ten- 
der your services with great respect, if you do not 
choose to do it with profound veneration. He will 
certainly have no more to do with sincerity and truth. 
Remember, 

" Male si palpeve, recalcitrut.'* 
F 2 



C6 ESSAYS ON MEN 



ON MODESfr AND IMPUDENCE, 

WHEN a man of genius does not print, he 
discovers hiinsclf by nothing more than by his abi- 
lities in dispute. However let him shew solidity in 
his opinions, together with ease, elegance, and viva- 
city in his expressions ; yet if an impudent f«ce be 
found to baffle him, he shall be judged inferior in 
other respects. 1 mean, he will grow cheap in mix- 
ed company : for as to select judges, tliey will form 
their opinions by another scale : with these, a single 
epistle, penned with propriety, will more eiTectu- 
ally prove his wit, than an hundred defects in his 
conversation will demonstrate the reverse. 

It is true, there is nothing displays a genius, I 
mean a quickness of genius, more than a dispute ; 
as two diamonds, encountering, contribute to each 
other's lustre. But perhaps the odds is much against 
the man of taste in this particular. 

Bashfulness is more frequently connected with good 
sense, than we find assurance : and impudence, on 
the other hand, is often the mere effect of downright 
stupidity. On this account the man of genius has 
as much the advantage of his antagonist, as a race- 
horse, carrying a small weight, has over his rival that 
bears v. larger : modesty, like the weight to which I 
aiUide, not suffering its owner to exert its real 
strength ; which eilVontery is allowed to do, without 
let or impediment. 

It may be urged, and justly enough, that it is com- 
mon to be partial to the modest man ; and that dif- 
fidence makes good amends for any restraint it lays 
us under, by the prejudice it gives every hearer in 
our favour. But indeed this can only happen, where 
it n\eets with the most ingenuous judges. Other- 
wise a laugh will carry the day, v.ith which the ig- 
norant side is generally best accommodated. 



AND MANNERS. 67 

In order to put these antagonists upon a some- 
what more equal fooling, I have invented the follow- 
ing instrument ; for the sole structure and sale of 
which, I am not without hopes of procuring a pat- 
ent. What I mean, is an artiticial laugher. There 
are few so little conversant in toys, but must have 
seen instruments mechanically framed to counterfeit 
the voices of different birds. The quail-pipe is 
brought to such perfection as even to delude the ve- 
ry species. The cuckow has been mimicked with no 
less accuracy. Would it not then be an easy matter 
to represent the laugh of this empty tribe, which has 
in itself something artificial ; and is not more affected 
than it is particular? For the convenience of the 
person that bears it, its dimensions should be so con- 
trived as that it might be played on in his pocket. 
Does it not seem feasible, that a laughter of this kind 
may be brought to answer every purpose of that noise 
wliich n resembles ? If tiiere be occasion for an ex- 
pletive, let the owner seek it in his fob; as his an- 
tagonist would find his account in a loud oa'h or an 
empty pun. If there be need of a good sounding ca- 
dence at the close of a common period, it may not be 
amiss to harmonize a sentence by what may be cal- 
led a finishing stroke. This instrument is so con- 
trived as to produce all the variety of an human 
laugh ; and this variation is to be regulated, not by 
the nature of your subject, nor the wit or humour of 
a repartee, but by the disposition of the company, 
and the proper minute for such an interlude. But 
to become a master of the said machine, let the can- 
didate for applause frequent the company of vocife- 
rous disputants ; among whom he may boon learn how 
to perform a conversation. 

One or two of these instruments I ha^e already fin- 
ished, though not indeed to the perfection at wiiich I 
expect they may soon arrive. A gentleman visited 
me the other day, who has the justcst claim that can 



68 



ESSAYS ON MEIf 



be, to the use of them; having nothing in his cha- 
racter that can obscure the greatest merit, but the 
greatest modesty. I communicated my invention, 
desiring him to make trial of it, on the first occasion. 
He did so ; and when I saw him next, gave me leave 
to publish the following account of its efficacy in my 
next advertisement. The first time I employed it, 
said my friend, was in a sort of controversy with a 
beau ; who had contrived means, by the use of his 
snuff-box, to supply both want of language and of 
thought. In this manner he prolonged Ins argument ; 
and really to the company which consisted of ladies, 
discovered more sagacity without thinking, than I 
could do by its assistance. I bethought myself im- 
iTiediately of your instrument, and had recourse to it. 
I observed in what part of his discourse he most em- 
ployed his fingers, and had suddenly recourse to mine 
with equal emphasis and significancy. The art was 
not discovered, ere I had routed my antagonist ; ha- 
ving seated myself in a dark corner, where my ope- 
rations were not discernible. I observed, that as he 
found himself more closely pressed, he grew more 
and more assiduous in his application to his snuff- 
box, much as an otter closely pursued is forced to 
throw up bubbles that show his distress. I therefore 
discovered gradually less occasion for speaking ; and 
for thinking, none at all. I played only a flourish in 
answer to the argument at his finger's ends; and af- 
ter a while found him as mortal in this part as in any 
other. When his cause was just expiring, after a 
Very long pursuit, and many fruitless turnmgs and 
evasions in the course of it, I sounded my instru- 
ment, with as much alacrity as a huntsman does his 
horn on the death of an hare. 

The next whom I engaged was a more formidable 
disputant ; and I own, with a sense of gratitude, that 
your instrument alone could render me a match for 
him. His strength of argument was his strength of 



AND MANNERS. 69 

lungs ; and he was, unquestionably, an iible antago- 
nist. However, if your machine put me upon a par 
with him, 1 think T may say without vanity, that in 
point of reason, I had the upper hand. I shall only 
add that as it was habitual for him to answer argu- 
ments by vociferation, so it became needless for me 
to give him any answer of a better kind. 

Thus far my friend: I do not question but there 
will appear artists, that shall undertake to instruct 
the dii!ident, the submissive, and the bashful, how to 
perform the whole gamut of oratorical and risible 
music : and as there is a kind of humourous laughter, 
which draws all others into its own vortex, I need 
not here assert that I would have this branch very 
much inculcated. 

Neither is this instrumentof importance in dispute 
alone, or controversy ; but wherever one man's fa- 
culties are more- prone to laughter than another's. 
Trifles will burst one man's sides, which will not dis- 
turb the features of another ; and a laugh one cannot 
join, is almost as irksome as a lamentation. It is 
like a peal rung after a wedding ; where a whole pa- 
rish shall be stunned with noise, because they want 
that occasion to rejoice, which the persons at least 
imagine to be their lot, that occasioned it. The 
sounds are pleasing to their ears, who find them con- 
formable to their own ideas; but those v/ho are not 
in temper, or unconcerned, find them a stupifying 
repeii icn. 

When therefore my mind is not in tune with ano-r 
ther's, what strikes his, will not vibrate on mine. All 
1 then have to do, is to counterfeit a laugh ; which 
is an operation as artificial, as tlie machine I have 
been describing. 



'?© ESSAYS ON MEN 



^HE HlSfORr OF DON PEDRO 



THE actions of our lives, even those we call most 
important, seem as much subject to trifles, as our 
very lives themselves. We frame many notable pro- 
jects in ilTiagi nation, and promise to ourselves an 
e.|uul term of life. It is however in the power of the 
minutest accident, to shorten the one, and disconcert 
the other. It is with mankind as with certain fire- 
engines, whose motion may be stopped in the midst 
of its rapidity, by the interposition of straw in a par- 
ticular part of them. 

The following translation from the orig-inal Span- 
ish, will suificiently illustrate the foregoint;- assertion. 
Don Pedro **** was one of the principal grandees 
cf his age and country. He had a genius equal to 
his birth, and a disposition remarkably contemplative. 
It was his custom, on this account, to retire from the 
world at stated periods, and to indulge himself in all 
the mazes of a fme imagination. It happened as he 
one day sut in his study, that he fixed his eye on a 
neighbouring spider. The most triviul object (if any 
natural object can be termed so) served him frequent- 
ly for the foundation of some moral and sublime re- 
jection. He surveyed the creature atten<:ively, and 
indulged the bias of his thouglit, till he was lost in 
the excursions of a profound reverie. The curious 
workmanship of this unregarded animal brought at 
once into his mind the whole art of fortilication. He 
observed the deficiency of human skill, and that no 
cunning could have contrived her so proper an habi- 
tation. He found that no violence could affect the 
extremities of her lines, but what was immediately- 
perceptible, and liable to alarm her at the centre. 
lie observed the road by which she sullied forth, serv- 
ed to convey intelligence from without, at the same 
time that it added strength and sti^Lility to the work 



AND ilANNERS* 



n 



within. He was at once surprised and pleased with 
an object which, although common, he happened not 
to have beheld in the same light, or with the same 
attention. From this instant he bent his thoughts 
upon the advancement of military fortification : and 
he often would declare it was this trivial incident, 
that gave him a relish for that study, which he after- 
wards pursued with such application and success. 

He spent in short so much time upon the attain- 
ment of this science, that he grew as capal)le of ex- 
ecuting any part of it, as speculation alone could ren- 
der him. Nothing wanted now, but practice to com- 
plete the fame of his abilities. That in short was 
his next pursuit. He became desirous of experien- 
cing, what had been so successful in imagination, 
and to make those moral sallies, vvhich had been at- 
tended there with victory. To this end he had little 
to do, but excite the ambition of his young monarch; 
to enforce, by testimony of his friends, his qualifi- 
cations for the post he sought ; and, on the first de- 
livery of his petition, to obtain preferment from the 
king. 

This happened to be a time of the profoundest 
tranquillity : little agreeable to a person eager of glo- 
ry, furnished with skill, and conscious of abilities. 
Such was this ingenious nobleman. He well knew 
the ambition of princes, and of his monarch in par- 
ticular. But he was not acquainted with his own. 
That imperious and subtle passion is often most pre- 
dominate when it is least perceived. When it once 
prevails in any great degree, we and our reason grow 
subservient, and, instead of checking or contradict- 
ing, it stoops to flatter and to authorize it. Instead 
of undeceiving, she confirms us in our error; and 
even levels the mounds, and smooths the obstruc- 
tions, which it is her natural province to interpose. 
This was the case of Don Pech'o. The delicacy of 
his taste encreased his sensibility ; and his sensibili- 



72 ESSAYS ON MEN 

ty made him more a slave. The mind of man, like 
the finer parts of matter, the more delicate it is, na- 
turally admits the more deep and the more visible 
impressions. The purest spirits are the soonest apt 
to take flame. Let us therefore be the more candid 
to him, on account of the vivacity of his passions, 
seduced, as indeed he was into very unwarrantable 
schemes. 

He had in brief conceived a project, to give his 
master an universal monarchy. He had calculated 
every article with the utmost labour and precision, 
and intended within a few days, to present his project 
to the king. 

Spain was then in a state of affluence ; had a large 
army on foot ; together with means and opportuni- 
ties of raising an immense one. It were impossible 
to answer for the possible events, that might destroy 
their hopes of such an enterprize. Dfficulty often 
attends the execution of things the most feasible and 
well contrived in theory. But whoever was accquaint- 
ed with the author of this project, knew the posture 
of affairs in Europe at that lime, the ambition of the 
prince, and the many circumstances that conspired 
to favour it, might have thought the project would 
have been agreed to, put in practice, and, Mithout 
some particular interposition of fortune, been attend- 
ed with success — But fortune did not put herself to 
any particular trouble about the matter. 

Don Pedro, big with vast designs, was one dny 
walking in his fields. He was promised next morn- 
ing an audience of the king. He was preparing him- 
self for a conversation, v/hich might prove of so much 
consequence to all mankind ; when walking thought- 
fully along, and regardless of his path, his foot hap- 
pened to stumble and overturn an ants' nest. He cast 
his eyes upon the ground to see the occasion of his 
mistake, where he spyed the little animals in the most 
miserable confusion. He had the delicacy of senti- 



AND MANNERS. 'T'S 

ment, to be really sorry for what he had clone ; and, 
putting himself in their condition, began to rcilect 
upon the consequence. It might be an age, to them, 
ere they could recover their tranquillity. He viewed 
them with a sort of smile, to find the anxiety they 
underwent for such perishable habitations. Yet he 
considered that his contempt was only the effect of 
his own superiority ; and that there might be some 
created beings, to whom his own species must appear 
as trifling. His remark did not cease here. He con- 
sidered his future enterprize, with an eye to such a 
race of beings. He found it must appear to them in 
aliglit as disadvantageous, as the ambition, and vain- 
glory of an ant would, to himself. How ridiculous, 
he said, must this republic appear to me, could I dis- 
cern its actions, as it has probably many, that are 
analogous to those of human nature ! Suppose them 
at continual variance about the property of a grain 
of sand. Suppose one, that had acquired a few sands 
more to his ■:ortion....as also one grain of wheat, and 
one small particle of barley-flour.. ..should think him- 
self qualified to tyrannize over his equals, and to lord 
it, uncontrouled. Consider him, on this account, not 
contented to make use of the numerous legs with 
which nature has supplied him, borne aloft by acoupie 
of slaves within the hollow of an husk of wheat, five 
or six others, at the same time, attending solemnly 
upon the procession. Suppose lastly, that among 
this people, the prime minister should persuade the 
rest to levy war upon a neighbouring colony ; and 
this in order to be styled the sovereign of two hillocks, 
instead of one ; wliilc, perhaps, their present condi- 
tioii leaves them nothing to wish besides superfluities. 
At the same time it is in the power of the most in- 
consitlerable among mankmd, nay of any species of 
animals superior to their own, to destroy ai once the 
minister and people all together: this is doubtless 
very ridiculous ; yet this is doubtless my own case, 



74 ESSAYS ON MEN 

in respect to many subordinate beings, and very cer- 
tainly of the Supreme one. Farewell then, ye air- 
built citadels ! farewell, visions of unsoiid glory I 
Don Pedro will seek no honour of so equivocal an 
acceptation, as to degrade his character to a superi- 
or species, in proportion as it exalts him btfore his 
own. 

See here a just conclusion! in short, he found it so 
fairly drawn, as immediately to drop his project, 
leave the army, and retire : of which whimsical re- 
lation it may be well enough observed, that a spider 
had enslaved the world, had not an ant obstructed 
his design. 



UPON ENVr,...fO A FRIEND, R. G. 

WHENCE is it, my friend, that I feel it impos- 
sible to envy you, althoiigh, hereafter, your qualifi- 
cations may make whole millions do so ? for, believe 
me, when I affirm, that I deem it much more super- 
fluous, to wish you honours to gratify your ambition, 
than to v/ish you ambition enough to make your hon- 
ours satisfactory. 

It seems an hard case that envy should be the con- 
sequence cf merit, at the same time that scorn so 
naturally attends the want of it. It is however in 
some measure perhaps an unavoidable (and perhaps 
in some sense an useful) passion in all the most he- 
roic natures ; where, i^fined through certain strain- 
ers, it takes the name of emulation. It is a pain aris- 
ing in our breasts, on contemplation of the superior 
advantages of another : and its tendency is truly 
good, under some certain regulations. 



AND MANNERS. 75 

All honour, very evidently, depends upon compa- 
rison ; and consequently ti.e more minierous are our 
superiors, the smaller portion of it fulls to our share. 
Considered relatively, we are dvf arfs, or giants ; ^ 
thousjh considered absolutely, we are neither, llow- 
evt;i-, the love of this relative grandeur is made a 
part of our natures ; and the use of emulation is to 
excite our diligence in pursuit of power, for the sake 
of beneficence. The instances of its perversion are 
obvious to every one's observation. A vicious mind, 
instead of its own emolument, studies the debase- 
ment of his superior. A person to please one of this 
cast, must needs divest himself of ail useful qualities ; 
and in order to be beloved, discover nothing that is 
truly amiable. One may very safely fix our esteem 
on those whom we hear some people depreciate. 
Merit is to them as uniformly odious, as the sun it- 
self to the birds of darkness. An author, to judge 
of his own merit, may fix his eye upon this tribe of 
men ; and suffer his satisfaction to arise in due pro- 
portion to their discontent. Their disapprobation 
will sufficiently influence every generous bosom in his 
favour : and I would as implicitly give my applause 
to one whom they pull to pieces, as the inhabitants 
of Pfgu worship those, that have been devoured by 
apes. 

It is another perversion of this passion, though of 
a less enormous nature, when it merely slimuldies us 
to rival others in points of no intrinsic worth. To 
equal others in the useless parts of learning ; to pur- 
sue riches for the sake of an equipage as biilliant ; to 
covet an ec^ual knowledge of a table; to vie in joc- 
key-ship, or cunning at a bett. These, and many 
otlier rivalships, answer not the genuine purpose of 
emulation. 

I believe the passion is oftentimes derived from a 
too partial view of our own and others excellencies. 
We behold a man possessed of some particular ad- 



76 KSSAYS ON MEN 

vantage, and we immedic-ttely reflect upon its deficien- 
cy in ourselves. We wait not to examine what others 
we have to balance it. We envy another man's bo- 
dily accomplishments ; when our mental ones might 
preponderate, would we put them into the scale. 
Should we ask our own bosoms whether we would 
change situations altogether, I fancy self-love vrould, 
generally, make us prefer our own condition. But 
if our sentiments remain the same after such an ex- 
amination, all v.e can justly endeavour is our own re- 
al advancement. To meditate this detriment either 
in fortune, pov/er, or reputation, at the same time 
that it is infcimous, has often a tendency to depress 
ourselves. But let us confine our emulatioVi to points 
of real wortli ; to riches, power, or knowledge, only 
that wc may rival others in beneficence. 



A VISION* 

INGENIOUS was the device of those celebrat- 
ed worthies, who for the more effectual promulgation 
of their well-grounded maxims, first pretended to di- 
vine inspiration. Peace be to their manes: may the 
turf lie lightly on their breast ; and the verdure over 
their grave be as perpetual as their memories I Well 
knew they questionless, that a proceeding of this na- 
ture must afford an excuse to their modesty, as well 
as add a weight to their instructions. For, from the 
beginning of time, if we may believe the histories of 
the best repute, man has ever found a delight in giv- 
ing credit to surprising lies. There was indeed a 
necessary degree of credit, previous to this delight; 
and there was as necessary a delight, in order to en- 
force any degree of credit. But so it was, that the 



AXD MANNERS. '77 

pleasure rose, in proportion to the wonder; and if 
tiie love of wonder was l)ut gratified, no matter whe- 
ther the tale was founded upon a witch or an Egeria; 
on a rat, a pigeon, the pummel of a sword, a bloat- 
ed sibyl, or a three-foot stool. 

Of all writers that bear any resemblance to these 
originals, those who approach the nearest, are such, 
as describe their extraordinary dreams and visions. 
Of ostentation we may not, peradventure, accuse 
them, who claim to thcTTiselves no other than the 
merit of spectators. Of want of abilities we must 
not censure them ; whon we are given to know that 
their imagination had no more part in the affair, than 
a whited wall has, in those various figures, which 
some crafty artist represents thereon. 

The first meditation of a solitary, is the behaviour 
of men in active life. Hapless species, I cried, how 
very grossly art thou mistaken 1 how very supincj 
while youth permits thee to gain the prize of virtue, 
by restraint 1 how very resolute, when thine age 
leaves nothing to restrain thee 1 thou givest a loose 
to thine inclinations, till they lose their very being; 
and, like a lamp overwhelmed with oil, are extin- 
guisheU by indulgence. What folly to cream of virtue, 
when there is no longer room for self-denial ; or, 
when the enemy expires by sickness, to demand the 
honour of a triumpn 1.... Musing upon this s.Lbject, I 
fell into a profouna slumber ; and the vision with 
which it furnished me shall supply rnater als for this 
essay. 

I was, methought, transported into a winding val- 
ley, on each side of whose area, so far as my eye 
could see, were held up (in tne manner of apicture) 
all the pleasing objects cither of art or nature. Hills 
rose one beyond another crowned with trees, or adorn- 
ed with edifices; broken rocks contrasted with lawns, 
and foaming rivers poured headloiig over them ; gild- 
ed spires enlivened even the sunshine; aucl lonesome 



75 ESSAYS ON MEN 

ruins, by the side of \Yoods, gave a solemnity to the 
shade. It would be endless, or rather impossible, to 
give an idea of the vast variety. It seemed, as though 
people of whatever inclinations might here meet with 
their favourite object. 

While I stood amazed, and even confounded, at 
so astonishing a landscape ; an old man approached 
towards me, and offered his assistance in alleviating 
my surprize. You observe, says he, in the middle 
path, a train of sprightly female pilgrims*, conduct- 
ed by a matron f of a graver cast. She is habited, 
as you may observe, in a robe far more plain and 
simple than that of any amidst her follov. ers. It is 
her province to restrain her pupils, that the objects 
glittering on each side may not seduce them to 
make excursions, from which they scarce ever find 
their right way again. You may not, perhaps, sus- 
pect the gulphs and precipices that lie intermixed 
amidst a scenery so delightful to the eye. You see, 
indeed, at a considerable distance, the gilt dome of 
a temple, raised on columns of the whitest marble. I 
must inform you, that within this temple resides a 
lady \, weaving wreaths of immortal amaranth for 
that worthy matron, if she exert her authority ; and, 
as their obedience is more or less entire, she has also 
garlands of inferior lustre to recompence the ladies 
in her train. 

Your ov»^n sagacity, added he, will supply the place 
of farther instructions ; and then vanished in an in- 
stant. 

The space before me, as it appeared, was crossed 
by four successive rivers. Over these were thrown 
as many bridges, and beyond each of these streams 
the ground seemed to vary its degree of lustre, as 
much as if il had lain under a different climate. On- 
the side of each of these rivers appeared, as I thought, 

* The Passions. f Reason. \ Virtue, 



AND MANNERS. 79 

a receptacle for travellers ; so that the journey seem- 
ed to be proportioned into four distinct stages. It is 
possible that these were meant to represent the peri- 
ods of a man's life ; which may be distinguished by 
the names of infancy, youth, manhood, and old age* 
During the first stage, our travellers proceeded 
without much disturbance. Their excursions were 
of no greater extent than to crop a primrose, or a dai- 
sy, that grew on the way-side : and in these their 
governess indulged them. She gave them but few 
checks, and they afforded her but little occasion. 
But when they arrived at the second period, the case 
then was greatly altered. The young ladies grew visi- 
bly enamoured of the beauties on each side ; and the 
governess began to feel a consciousness of her duty 
to restrain them. They petitioned clamourously to 
make one short excursion, and met with a decent re- 
fusal. One of them, that visibly shewed herself the 
greatest vixen and romp * amongst them, had a thou- 
sand arts and stratagems to circumvent her well- 
meaning governess. I must here mention, what I 
remarked afterwards, that some of the pupils felt 
greater attractions in one stage ; and some in ano- 
ther. And the scene before them being well vari- 
egated with mossy banks and piu'ling streams, frisk- 
ing lambs and piping shepherds ; inspired a long- 
ing that was inexpressible, to one that seemed of an 
amourous complexion. She requested to make a 
short digression ; pointed to the band of shepherds 
dancing ; and, as 1 observed, presented a glass, through 
which the matron might distinctly view them. The 
governess applied the glass, and it was wonderful to 
trace the change it efitcted. She, who before had 
with much constancy opposed the prayers of her pe- 
titioner, now began to lean towards her demands ; 
and, as if she herself were not quite indifferent to the 

* Love. 



80 ESSAYS ON MEJf 

scene of pleasure she had beheld, grew remiss in her 
discipline ; softened the language of dissent ; ai.d 
with a gentle reprimand, suftered her pupil to elope. 
After this, however, she winked her eyes ; that she 
might not at least bear testimony to the step she did 
not approve. When the lady had gratified her curi- 
osity, she returned for the p^^esent ; but with an ap- 
petite more inflamed, and more impatient to repeat 
her frolic. The governess appeared uneasy, and to 
repent of her own compliance; and reason good she 
had ; considering the confidence it gave her pupil, 
and the v/eight it took from her own authority. 

They were not passed far from the second stage 
of their journey, ere they all determined to rebel, 
and submit to the tyranny of their leader no longer. 

Another now took the lead ; and seizing an em- 
broidered handkerchief, completely hoodwinked the 
directress. All now was tumult, anarchy, disagree- 
ment, and confusion. They led their guide along, 
blindfold, not without proposals of downright murder. 
They soon lost sight of the regular path, and strode 
along with amazing rapidity. I should however, ex- 
cept some few*, who, being of a complexion natural- 
ly languid, andthus deprived of their protectress, had 
neither constancy to keep the road, nor spirit enough 
to stray far from it. These found the utmost of their 
inclinations gratified, in treasuringup shells from the 
banks of the river, scooping fossils from the rocks, 
or preserving plants that grew in the valley. A moth 
or butterfly afforded them a chace, and a grub or 
beetle was a suitable companion. But to return to 
vagabonds. 

The lady that performed the feat of blinding her 
governess, for a time, bore the chief rule ; and held 
the rest in a state of servitude!* She seemed to be 
indeed formed for that power and grandeur, which 

* The Virtuoso-passion. f Ambition. 



AND MANNERS. 81 

was lier dellglit ; bcin?^ of a stature remarkably tall, 
M'ith an air of dignity in her countenance. Not but 
others vvouKl sometimes insist upon some temporary 
gratiticdtion. As they shaped their way to a great 
city, one t v/ould loll and loiter on a bed of roses ; 
another would join the dance of shepherds, and some- 
times retire with :j- one into the covert. A 1| third 
M'ould not move a step farther, till she had gathered 
some ore tluit was v.ashed from the mountains. When 
they entered the city, their dissipation was yet more 
oi)servable. One |||j intoxicated herself with cordials ; 
anotlier |^ went in quest of iace and equipage. The 
** lady, however, at tliis time the most enterprising, 
and who (as I mentioned before) had given such a 
turn to their affairs, discovered a strange fondness 
herself for lawn and ermine, entbroidered stars, and 
golden collars. However ciifficiiit it seemed to reach 
tiiem, or how little necessary soever they seemed to 
happiness, these alone engaged her attention ; and 
to these alone her hopes aspired. Nay she went so 
far, as, in failure of these, to resolve on misery and 
wilful wretchedness. 

She at length succeeded, at least so far as to find 
bow little they enhanced her happiness ; and her for- 
mer compeers, having ruined their constitutions, were 
once again desirous to have their queen reign over 
them. In short, their loyalty regained the ascen- 
dant; insomuch, that with one consent they remov- 
ed the bandage from her eyes, and vowed to obey 
her future directions. 

She promised to secure them all the happiness that 
was consistent with their preseiit state ; and advised 
them all to follow her towards the path they had for- 
saken. 

t Ind':ilence. | Gallantry. ]) Avarice. |!!,' Ebriety. || Pride 
and Vanity. ** Ambition. 



82 r.SSAYS ON MEN 

Our travellers^ in a liule time after this passed over 
the bridii;e that introduced them to their closing stage. 
The subjects, very orderly, repentant, and demis- 
sive ; the governess, more rigid and imperious than 
ever. Tiie former, withered, decrepid, languishing ; 
the latter, in greater vigour, and more beautiful than 
before. Time appeared to produce in her, a very 
opposite effect, to that it wrought in her companions. 
She seemed, indeed, no more that easy ductile crea- 
ture, insulted and borne away by the whims of her 
conipuiuons. She appeared more judicious in the 
commands she gave, and more rigorous in the exe- 
cution. In short, both her own activity, and the su- 
pine lethargy of those whom she conducted united to 
make way for her unlimited authority. Now, indeed, 
a more limited rule might have secured obedience, 
and maintained a regularity. The ladies were but 
little struck with the glare of objects on each side the 
way. One alone I must except, whom I beheld look 
wishfully, with a retorted eye, towards the golden ore 
washed down by the torrents. The governess repre- 
sented, in the strongest terms, that the materials 
could not be imported into the realms they were about 
to enter. That, were this even the case, they could 
be there of no imiportance. However, she had not 
extirpated the bias of this craving dame, when they 
approached the temple to which I formerly alluded. 

The temple stood upon a lofty hill, half encircled 
with trees of never-fading verdure. Between the milk- 
white columns (which were of the Dorick order, the 
bases gilt, as also the capitals) a blaze of glory issu- 
ed, of such superior lustre, that none beside the gov- 
erness was able to approach it. She, indeed, with a 
dejected countenance, drew near unto the goddess ; 
who gently waved her hand in the way of salutation. 

The matron seemed less dazzled, than delighted 
with her excessive beauty. She accosted her with 
reverence, and with much diftldence be^an to men^ 



AND MANNERS. 83 

tion their pretension to her favour. " She must own, 
she had been too remiss in the beginnin,^ of her 
government ; she hopftci it would be attributed to in- 
experience in the subtle wiles of her fellow-travellers. 
She fluttered herself, that her severity towarcis the 
conclusion of her journey might in some sort make 
atonement for her misbehaviour in the begiriuing. 
Lastly, that she sometimes found it impossible to hear 
the dictates of the Gotidess amid ilie cian;ours of her 
pupils, and the din of their pet'suasioiis." 

To this I he goddess may reply. 

" You have heard." said she, " no doubt that the 
favours I bestow, are by no means consistent with a 
state of inactivity. The only time when you w^ere 
allowed an opportunity to deserve them, was the time 
when your pupils were the most refractory and per- 
verse. The hojiours you expect in my court are pro- 
portioned to the difficulty of a good undertaking. 
May you, hereafter, partake them, in reward of your 
more vigorous conduct : for the present, you are lit- 
tle entitled to any recompence from me. As to your 
pupils, I observe, they have passed sentence upon 
themselves." 

At this instant of time the bell rung for supper, 
and awaked me : I found the gardener by my side, 
prepared to plant a parcel of trees ; and that I had 
slumbered away the hours, in which I should have 
given him suitable directions. 



84 KSSAYS ON MEM 



UNCONNECTED fllOUGHfS ON GARDENING, 

GARDENING may be divided into three spc- 

cies....kitchen-gardenin^....parterre-gcirdcning and 

landscape, or picturesque-gardening : which latter is 
the subject intended in the following pages. ...It con- 
sists in pleasing the imagination by scenes of gran- 
deur, beauty, or variety. Convenience merely has 
no share here, any farther than as it pleases the inui- 
gi nation. 

Perhaps the division of the pleasures of imagina- 
tion, according as they are struck, by the great, the 
various, and the beautiful, may be accurate enough 
for my present purpose : why each of them affects 
us with pleasure may be traced in other authors. 
See Burke, Hutchinson, Gerard, the theory of agree- 
able sensations, £cc *. 

There seems however to be some objects, which 
afford a pleasure not reducible to either of the fore- 
going heads. A ruin, for instance, may be neither 
new to us, nor majestic, nor beautiful, yet afibrd that 
pleasing melancholy which proceeds from a reflection 
on decayed magnificence. Tor this reason, an able 
gardener should avail himself of objects, perhaps, 
not very striking ; if they serve to connect ideas, 
that convey reilections of the pleasing kind. 

Objects should indeed be less calculated to strike 
the immediate eye, than the judgment or well-form- 
ed imagination ; as in painting. 

It is no objection to the pleasure of novelty, that 
it makes an ugly object more disagreeable. It is 
enough that it produces a superiority betwixt things 

* Garden- scenes may perhaps be divided into the sublime, 
the beautiful, and the melancholy or ])cnsive ; to which last 
I know not but we may assign a middle place betwixt the 
former two, as being in some sort composed of both. See 
Burke's Sublime. 



AND MANNERS'. 85 

\r\ Other respects equal. It seems, on some occa- 
sions, to 4^0 even farther. Arc there not hroken rocks 
a!ul rugi);ecl grounds, to which we can hardly attri- 
huie either beauty or grandeur; and yet when intro- 
ihiccdnear an extent of lawn, imparta pleasure equal 
to more shapely scenes ? Thus a series of lawn, 
though ever so beautiful, may satiate and cloy, un- 
less the eye passes to them from wilder scenes ; and 
then they acquire the grace of novelty. 

Variety appears to me to derive good part of its 
effect from novelty ; as the eye, passing from one 
form or colour, to a form or colour of a different 
kind, finds a degree of novelty in its present object, 
which affords immediate satisfaction. 

Variety however, in some instances, may be car- 
ried to such excess as to lose its whole effect. I 
have observed ceilings so crammed with stucco-or- 
naments ; that, although of the most different kinds, 
they have produced an uniformity. A sufficient quan- 
tity of undecorated space is necessary to exhibit such 
decorations to advantage. 

Ground should first be considered with an eye to 
its peculiar character: whether it be the grand, the 
savage, the melancholy, the horrid, or the beautiful. 
As one or other of these characters prevail, one may 
somewhat strengthen its effect, by allowing every 
part some denomination, and then supporting its ti- 
tle by suitable appendages.... P'or instance. The lover's 
walk may have assignation seats, with proper mot- 
toes urns to faithful lovers. ....trophies, garlands, 

See. by means of art. 

What an advantage must some Italian seats derive 
from the circumstance of being situated on ground 
mentioned in the classics ? And, even in England, 
wherever a park or garden happens to have been the 
scene of any event in history, one would surely avail 
one's self of that circumstance, to make it more ia- 
H 



86 ESSAYS ON MEN 

teresting to the imagination. Mottoes should alhidc 
to it, columns, See. record it ; verses moralize upon 
it ; and curjosity receive its share of pleasure. 

In designing a house and gardens, it is happy 
when there is an opportunity of maintaining a sub- 
ordination of parts ; the house so luckily placed as to 
exhibit a vicv/ of the whole design. I have some- 
limes thought that there was room for it to resemble 
an epic or dramatic poem. It is rather to be wished 
than required, that the more striking scenes may 
succeed those which are less so. 

Taste depends much upon temper. Some pr.efer 

TibuJius to Virgil, and Virgil to Homer Hagley 

to Perslieid, and Persfieid to the Welsh mountains. 
This occasloas the different preferences that are given 
to situations.. ..A garden strikes us most, wdiere the 
grand and the pleasing succeed, not intermingle w ith, 
each other. 

I believe, howevei', the sublime has generally a 
deeper effect than the merely beautiful. 

I use the words landscape and prospect, the former 
as expressive of home scenes, the latter of distant 
images. Prospects should take in the blue distant 
Inlis ; but never so remotely, that they be not ciis- 
tinguishable from clouds. Yet this mere extent is 
whcit the vulgar value. 

Landscape should contain variety enough to form 
a picture upon canvas ; and this is no bad test, as I 
thiiik tiic landscape painter is the gardener's best de- 
signer. The eye requires a sort of balance here ; 
but not so as to encroach upon probable nature. A 
wood, or hiil, may balance a house or obelisk ; for 
exactne-.s w'ouid be displeasing. We form our no- 
lions from what we have seen ; and though, could 
we comprehend the universe, w^e might perhaps lind 
it uniforndy regular ; yet the portions that we see of 
it, habituate our fancy to the contrary. 



A^^D MANNERS. 



87 



The eye should always look rather down upon 
water: customary nature makes this requisite. I 
know nothing more sensibly displeasing than Mr. 
T 's flat ground betwixt his terrace and his water. 

It is not easy to account for the fondness of form- 
er times for straigiit-lined avenues to their houses ; 
straight-lined walks through their woods ; and, in 
short, every kind of straight-line ; where the foot is 
to travel over, what the eye has done before. This 
circumstance, is one objection. Another, somewhat 
of the same kind, is the repetition of the same o1> 
ject, tree after tree, for a length of way together. 
A third is, that this identity is purchased by the loss 
of that variety, which the natural country supplies 
every where, in a greater or less degree. To stand 
still and survey such avenues, may afibrd some slen- 
der satisfaction, through the change derived some 
perspective ; but to move on continually and find no 
change of scene in the least attendant on our change 
of place, must give actual pain to a person of taste. 
For such an one to be condemned to pass aloi'g the 
famous vista* from Moscow to Petersburg, or that 
other from Arga to Labor in India, must be as disa- 
greeable a sentence, as to be coiidemned to labour at 
the gallies. I conceived some idea of the sensation 
he must feel, from walking but a few minutes, im- 
mured, betwixt Lord D 's high-shorn yew- 
hedges ; which run exactly parallel, at the distance 
of about ten feet; and are contrived perfectly to ex- 
clude all kind of objects whatsoever. 

Vv^hen a building, or other object, has been once 
viewed from its proper point, tlie foot should never 
travel to it by the same path, which the eye has tra- 
velled over before. Lose the object, and draw nigh, 
obliLjuely. 

* In Montescjuieu, on Taste. 



S« essats on metn 

The side-trees in vistas should be so circumstan- 
ced as to ailbrd a probability that they grew by na- 
ture. 

Ruinated structures appear to derive their power of 
pleasing, from the irregularity of surface, which is 
variety ; ^nd the latitude they afford the imagination 
to conceive an enlargem.ent of their dimensions, or 
to recollect any events or circumstances appertaining 
to their pristine grandeur, so far as concerns gran- 
deur and solemnity. The breaks in them should be 
as bold and abrupt as possible. ....If mere beauty be 
aimed at (which however is not their chief excellence) 
the waving line, with more easy transitions, will be- 
come of greater importance. ...Events relating to them 
may be simulated by numberless little artifices ; but 
it is ever to be remembered, that high hills and sud- 
den descents are most suitable to castles ; and fertile 
vales, near wood and water, most imitative of the usual 
situation for abbeys and religious houses ; large 
oaks, in particular, are essential to these latter ; 

" Whose branching arms, and reverend height, 
" Admit a dim religious light." 

A cottage is a pleasing object, partly on account 
of the variety it may introduce ; on account of the 
tranquillity that seems to reign there ; and perhaps 
(I am somewhat afraid) on account of the pride of 
human nature : 

♦' Longi alterius spectare laborem." 

In a scene presented to the eye, objects should never 
lie so much to the right or left, as to give it any un- 
easiness in the examination. Sometimes, however, 
it may be better to adn^it valuable objects even with 
this disadvantage. They should else never be seen 
beyond a certain angle. The eye must be easy, be- 
fore it can be pleased. 



AND MANNERS. 83 

No mere slope from one side to the other can be 
agreeable ground : The eye requires a balance....!, e. 
a degree of uniformity : but this may be other- 
wise effected, and the rule should be understood with 
some limitation. 

" ....Each alley has its brother, 

*' And half the plat-form just reflects the other." 

Let us examine what may be said in favour of that 
regularity which Mr. Pope exposes. Might he not 
seemingly as well object to the disposition of an hu- 
man face, because it has an eye or cheek, that is the 
Yery picture of its companion ? Or does not provi- 
dence, who has observed this regularity in the exter- 
nal structure of our bodies and disregarded it within, 
seem to consider it as a beauty ? The arms, the 
limbs, and the several parts of them correspond, but 
it is not the same case with the thorax and the ab- 
domen. I believe one is generally solicitous for a 
kind of balance in a landscape ; and, if I am not mis- 
taken, the painters generally furnish one : a build- 
ing for instance on one side, contrasted by a group 
of trees, a large oak, or a rising hill on the other. 
Whence then does this taste proceed, but from the 
love we bear to regularity in perfection ? After all, 
in regard to gardens, the shape of ground, the dis- 
position of trees, and the figure of water, must be 
sacred to nature; and no forms must be allowed that 
make a discovery of art. 

All trees have a character analogous to thatof men : 
oaks are in all respects the perfect image of the 
manly character: in former times I should have said, 
and in present times I think I am authorized to say, 
the British one. As a brave man is not suddenly 
either elated by prosperity or depressed by adversity, 
so the oak displays not its verdure on the sun's first 
approach ; nor drops it, on his first departure. Add 
H 2 



•» ESSAYS ON MEN 

to this its majestic appearance, the rough g-randeup 
of its bark, and the wide protection of its branches. 

A large, branching, aged oak, is perhaps the most 
venerable of all inanimate objects. 

Urns are more solemn, if large and plain ; more 
beautiful if less and ornamented. Solemnity is per- 
haps their point, and the situation of them should 
sLill co-operate with it. 

By the way, I wonder that lead statues are not 
jnore in vogue in our modern gardens. Though they 
tnay not express the finer lines of a human body? yet 
they seem perfectly well calculated, on account of 
their duration, to embellish landscapes, were they 
some degrees inferior to what we generally behold. 
A statue in a room challenges examination, and is to 
be examined critically as a statue. A statue in a 
garden is to be considered as one part of a scene or 
landscape ; the minuter touches are no more essen- 
tial to it, than a good landscape painter would esteem 
them w ere he to represent a statue in his picture. 

Apparent art, in its proper province, is almost as 
important as apparent nature. They contrast agree- 
ably ; but their provinces ever should be kept dis- 
tinct. 

Some artificial beauties are so dextrously managed, 
that one cannot but conceive them natural ; some na- 
tural ones so extremely fortunate, that one is ready 
to swear they are artificial. 

Concerning scenes, the more uncommon they ap- 
pear, the better, provided they form a picture, and 
include nothing that pretends to be of nature's pro- 
duction, and is not. The shape of ground, the site 
of trees, and the fall of water, nature's province. 
Whatever thwarts her is treason. 

On the other hand, buildings and the works of art 
need have no other reference to nature than that they 
afford the ivviu,vov with which the human mind is de- 
lighted* 



AND MANNERS. 91 

Art should never be allowed to set a foot in the 
province of nature, otherwise than clandestinely and 
by nij^ht. Whenever she is allowed to appear here, 
and men begin to compromise the difference. ...night, 
gotliicism, confusion, and absolute chaos, are come 
again. 

To see one's urns, obelisks, and waterfalls laid 
open ; the nakedness of our beloved mistresses, the 
Naiads and the Dryads, exposed by that ruffian Win- 
ter to universal observation ; is a severity scarcely to 
be supported by the help of blazing hearths, cheer- 
ful companions, and a bottle of the most grateful 
burgundy. 

The works of a person that builds, begin immedi- 
ately to decay ; while those of him who plants begin 
directly to improve. In this, planting promises a 
more lasting pleasure, than building ; which, were 
it to remain in equal perfection, would at best begin 
to moulder and want repairs in imagination. Now 
trees have a circumstance that suits our taste, and 
that is annual variety. It is inconvenient indeed, if 
J; ihey cause our love of life to take root and flourish 
with them ; whereas the very sameness of our struc- 
tures will, without the help of dilapidation, serve to 
wean us from our attachment to them. 

It is a custom in some countries to condemn the 
characters of those (after death) that have neither 
planted a tree, nor begot a child. 

The taste of the citizen and of the mere peasai t 
are in all respects the same. The former gilds his 
balls ; paints his stone work and statues white ; plants 
his trees in lines or circles ; cuts his yew-trees four- 
square or conic; or gives them, v/hat he can, of the 
resemblance of birds, or bears, or men ; squirts up his 
rivulets in jetteaus ; in short admires no part of na- 
ture, but her ductility ; exhibits every thing that is 
glaring, that implies expcnce, or that effects sur- 
prize because it is unnatural. The peasant is his ad- 
mirer. 



&5 



ESSAYS ON MEN 



It is always to be remembered in gardening, that 
sublimity or magnificence, and beauty or variety, are 
very different things. Every scene we see in nature 
is either tame and insipid ; or compounded of those. 
It often happens that the same ground may receive 
i"rom art, either certain degrees of sublimity and mag- 
nificence, or certain degrees of variety and beauty ; 
or a mixture of each kind. In this case it remains 
to be considered in which light they can be rendered 
most remarkable, vvhether as objects of beauty or 
magnificence. Even the temper of the proprietor 
should not perhaps be wholly disregarded : for cer- 
tain complexions of soul will prefer an orange tree 
or a myrtle, to an oak or cedar. However, this 
should not induce a gardener to parcel out a lawn in- 
to knots of shrubbery ; or invest a mountain with a 
garb of roses. This would be like dressing a giant 
in a sarsenet gown, or a Saracen's head in a Brussel's 
night-cap. Indeed the small and circular clumps of 
firs, which I see planted upon some fine large swells, 
put me often in mind of a coronet placed on an ele- 
phant or camel's back. I say, a gardener should 
not do this, any more than a poet should attempt to 
write of the king of Prussia in the style of Philips. 
On the other side, what would become of Lesbia's 
sparrow, should it be treated in the same language 
with the anger of Achilles ? 

Gardeners may be divided into three sorts, the 
landscape gardener, the parterre gardener, and the 
kitchen gardener, agreeably to our first division of 
gardens. 

I have used the word landscape-gardeners ; be- 
cause, in pursuance of our present taste in garden- 
ing, every good painter of landscape appears to me 
the most proper designer. The misfortune of it is, 
that these painters are apt to regard the execution of 
their work^ m\],gh jnore than the choice of subject. 



AND MANNERS. 95 

The art of distancing and approximating, comes 
truly within their sphere : the former by the gradual 
diminution of distinctness, and of size : the latter by 
the reverse. A straight-lined avenue that is widen- 
ed in front, and planted there with yew trees, then 
firs, then with trees more and more fady, till they 
end in the almond-willow, or silver osier; will pro- 
duce a very remarkable deception of the former kind ; 
which deception will be encreased, if the nearer dark 
trees are proportionable and truly larger than those at 
the end of the avenue that are more fady. 

To distance a building, plant as near as you can 
to it, two or three circles of different coloured greens 
....Ever-greens are best for all such purposes.. ..Sup- 
pose the outer one of holly, and the next of laurel, 
Sco. The consequence will be that the imagination 
immediately allows a space betwixt these circles, and 
another betwixt the house and them ; and as the 
imagined sp:w:e is determinate, if your building be 
dim-coloured, it will not appear inconsiderable. The 
imagination is a greater magnifier than a microscope 
glass. And on this head, I have known some instan- 
ces, where, by shevang intermediate ground, the 
distance has appeared less, than while an hedge or 
grove concealed it. 

Hedges, appearing as such, are universally bad. 
They discover art in nature's province. 

Trees in hedges partake of their artificiality, and 
become a part of them. There is no more sudden and 
obvious improvement, than an hedge removed, and 
the trees remaining ; yet not in such manner as to 
mark out the former hedge. 

Water should ever appear, as an irregular lake, or 
winding stream. 

Islands give beauty, if the water be adequate ; but 
lessen grandeur through variety. 

It was the wise remark of some sagacious observer, 
that familiarity is for the most part productive of con- 



9't ESSAYS ON MEN 

tempt. Graceless ofFspring of so amiable a parent I 
Unfortunate beings that we are, whose enjoyments 
must be either checked, or prove destructive of them- 
selves. Our passions are permitted to sip a little 
pleasure ; but are extinguished by indulgence, like 
a lamp overwhelmed with oil. Hence we neglect the 
beauty with which we have been intimate; nor would 
any addition it could receive, prove any equivalent 
for the advantage it derived from the first impression. 
Thus, negligent of graces that heive the merit of real- 
ity, we too often prefer imaginary ones that have on- 
ly the charm of novelty : and hence we may account, 
in general for the preference of art to nature, in old- 
fashioned gardens. 

Art, indeed, is often requisite to collect and epito- 
mize the beauties of nature ; but should never be suf- 
fered to set her mark upon them ; I mean, in regard 
to those articles that are of nature's province ; the 
shaping of ground, the planting of trcCi, and the dis- 
position of lakes and rivulets. Many more particu- 
lars will soon occur, which, however, she is allowed 
to regulate, somewhat clandestinely, upon the follow- 
ing account.. ..Man is not capable of comprehending 
the universe at one survey. Had he faculties equal 
to this, he might well be censured for any minute 
regulations of his own. It were the same, as if, in his 
present situation, he strove to find amusement in con- 
triving the fabric of an ant's nest, or the partitions of 
9. bee-hive. But we are placed in the corner of a 
sphere ; endued neither with organs, nor allowed a 
station, proper to give us an universal view, or to ex- 
hibit to us the variety, the orderly proportions, and 
dispositions of the system. We perceive many breaks 
and blemishes, several neglected and unvariegated 
placed in the part ; which, in the whole, would appear 
either imperceptible, or beautiful. And we might as 
rationally expect ii snail to be satisfied with the beau- 
ty' of our parterres, slopes, and terraces. ...or an ant 



A^JD MANNERS. O5 

to prefer our buildings to her own orderly range of 
granaries, as that man should be satisfied, without a 
single thought that he can improve the spot that falls 
to his share. But, though art be necessary for col- 
lecting nature's beauties, by what reason is she au- 
thorized to thwart and to oppose her? Why fantas- 
tically endeavour to humanize those vegetables, of 
which nature, discreet nature thought it proper to 
make trees ? Why endow the vegetable bird with 
wings, which nature has made momentarily depend- 
ant upon the soil ? Here art seems very affectedly to 
make a display of that industry, which it is her glory 
to conceal. The stone which represents an asterisk, 
is valued only on account of its natural production : 
Nor do we view with pleasure the laboured carvings 
and futile diligence of gothic artists. We view with 
much more satisfaction some plain Grecian fabric, 
where art, indeed, has been equally, but less visibly, 
industrious. It is thus we, indeed, admire the shin- 
ing texture of the silkworm ; but we loath the puny 
author when she thinks proper to emerge ; and to 
disgust us with the appearance of so vile a grub. 

But this is merely true in regard to the particulars 
of nature's province ; wherein art can only appear as 
the most abject vassal, and had, therefore, better not 
appear at all. The case is different where she has 
the direction of buildings, useful or ornamental ; or 
perhaps, claims as much honour from temples, as 
the deities to whom they are inscribed. Here then it is 
his interest to be seen as much as possible : and, 
though nature appear doubly beautiful by the con- 
trast her structures furnish, it is not easy for her to 
confer a benefit which nature, on her side will not re- 
pay. 

A rural scene to me is never perfect without the 
additk)n of some kind of building : indeed I have 
known a scar of rock-work, in great measure, supply 
he deficiency. 



56 ESSAYS ON MF-X 

In gardening, it is no small point to enforce either 
grandeur or beauty by surprize ; for instance, by 
abrupt transition fi'om their contraries.. ..but to lay a 
stress upon surprize only ; for example, en the sur- 
prize occasioned by an aha 1 without including any 
nobler purpose ; is a symptom of bad taste, and a 
violent fondness for mere concetto. 

Grandeur and beauty are so very opposite, that yoa 
often diminish the one as you encrease the other. 
Variety is most a-kin to the Utter, simplicity to the 
former. 

Suppose a large hill rarie^, by art, with large 
patches of different-coloured clunips, scars of rock, 
chalk-quarries, rillages, or farm-houses ; you will 
have, perhaps, a more beautiful scene, but much less 
grand than it was before. 

In many instances, it is m.ost eligible to compound 
your scene of beauty and grandcur....Suppose a mag- 
nificent s^ell arising out of a well-variegated valley ; 
it would be disatlvantageous to encrease its beauty, 
by means destniciive to its magniScencc. 

There may possilily, but there seldom happens to 
be any occasion to fill up valleys, with trees or other- 
wise. It is for the most part the gartleoer's business 
to remove trees, or aught ihat fills up the low ground ; 
and to give, as far as caturc allows, an anificial emi- 
nence to the high. 

The hedge-row apple-trees in Herefordshire afibrd 
a most beautiful scenery, at the time they are in 
blossom : but the prospect would be really grzuider, 
did it consist of ^raple foliage. For the same rea- 
son, a large oak (or beech) in autumn, -s a grander 
object than the same in spring. The sprightly green 
is then obliiscated. 

Smoothness and easy transitions are no smaC'in- 
gredient in the beautiful; abr^^pi and rectangiilar 
breaks have more of the nature af the sublime. Thus 



AND MANNERS. 9f 

a tapering spire is, perhaps, a more beautiful object 
than a tower, which is grander. 

Many of the different opinions relating to the pre- 
ference to be given to seats, villas, Ecc are owing to 
want of distinction betwixt the beautiful and the mag- 
nificent. Both the former and the latter please ; but 
there are imaginations particularly adapted to the one, 
and to the other. 

Mr. Addison thought an open uninclosed cham- 
pain country, formed the best landscape. Somewhat 
here is to be considered. Large, unvaricgated, sim- 
ple objects have the best pretensions to sublimity ; a 
large mountain, whose sides are unveried with ob- 
jects, is grander than one with infinite variety : but 
then its beauty is proportionably less. 

However, I think a plain face near the eye gives 
it a kind of liberty it loves : and then the picture, 
whether you chuse the grand or beautiful, should be 
held up at its proper distance. Variety is the princi- 
pal ingredient in beauty ; and simplicity is essential 
to grandeur. 

Oftensive objects, at a proper distance, acquire 
even a degree of beauty : for instance, stubble fallow 
ground 



^S ESSAYS ON MEN 



ON POLITICS. 



PERHAPS men of the most different sects and 
parties very frequently think the same ; only vary in 
their phrase and language. At least, if one exam- 
ines their first principles, which very often coincide, 
it were a point of prudence, as well as candour, to 
consider the rest as nothing more. 

A courtier's dependant is a beggar's dog. 

If national reflections are unjust, because there are 
good men in all nations, are not national wars upon 
much the same footing? 

A government is inexcusable for employing foolish 
Ininisters; because they may examine a man's head, 
though they cannot his heart. 

I fancy, the proper means of encreasing the love 
we bear our native country, is to reside some time in 
a foreign one. 

The love of popularity seems little else than the 
love of being beloved ; and is only blameable when a 
person aims at the affections of a people by means 
in appearance honest, but in their end pernicious and 
destructive. 

There ought no doubt, to be heroes in society as 
well as butchers ; and who knows but the necessity 
of butchers (inflaming and stimulating the passions 
with animal food) might at first occasion the neces- 
sity of heroes. Butchers, I believe, were prior. 

The whole mystery of a courtly behaviour seems 
included in the power of making general favours ap- 
pear particular ones. 

A man of remarkable genius may afford to pass 
by a piece of wit, if it happen to border on abuse. 
A little genius is obliged to catch at every witticism 
indiscriminately. 

Indolence is a kind of centripetal force. 



AND MANNERS. 59 

It seems idle to rail at ambition merely because it 
is a boundless passion; or rather is not vhis circum- 
stance an argument in its favour ? If one would be 
employed or amused through life, should we not 
make choice of a passion that will keep one long in 
play ? 

A sportsman of vivacity will make choice of that 
game which will prolong hi^ diversion : a fox, that 
w^ill support the chace till night, is better game than 
a rabbit, that will not aflbrd him half an hour's en- 
tertainment. E. 

The submission of Prince Hal to the civil magis- 
trate that connnitted him, was more to h.is honour 
than all the conquests of Henry the Fifth in France. 

The most animated social pleasure, that I can con- 
ceive, may be, perhaps, felt by a general after a suc- 
cessful engagement, or in it : I mean by such com- 
manders as have souls equal to their occupation. 
This, however, seems paradoxical, and requires some 
explanation. 

Resistance to the reigning powers is justifiable, 
upon a conviction that their government is inconsist- 
ent with the good of the subject ; that our interposi- 
tion tends to establish better measures ; and this with- 
out a probability of occasioning evils that may over- 
balance them. But these considerations must never 
be separated. 

People are, perhaps, more vicious in towns, be- 
cause they have fewer natural objects there, to em- 
ploy their attention. ...or admiration : likewise because 
one vicious character tends to encourage and keep 
another in countenance. However it be, excluding 
accidental circumstances, I believe the largest cities 
are the m,ost vicious of all others. 

Laws are generally found to be nets of such a tex- 
ture, as the little creep through, the great break 
through, and the middle size are alone entangled in. 



%( 



ESSAYS ON MEN 



Though I have no sort of inclination to vindicate 
the late rebellion, yet I am led by candour to make 
some distinction between the immorality of its abet-* 
tors, and the illegality of their offences. My Lord 
Hardwick, in his condemnation-speech, remarks with 
great propriety, that the laws of all nations have ad- 
judged rebellion to be the worst of crimes. And in 
regard to civil societies, I believe there are none but 
madmen will dispute it. But surely with regard to 
conscience, erroneous judgments and ill-grounded 
convictions may render it some people's duty. Sin 
does not consist in any deviation from received opin-. 
ion ; it does not depend upon the understanding, but 
the will. Now, if it appear that a man's opinion has 
happened to misplace his duty ; and this opinion has 
not been owing to any vicious desire of indulging 
his appetites. ...In short, if his own reason, liable to 
err, have biased his will ; rather than his will any 
way contributed to bias and deprave his reason, he 
•will, perhaps, appear guilty before none, beside an 
earthly tribunal. 

A person's right to resist, depends upon a convic- 
tion, that the government is ill-managed ; that others 
have more claim to manage it, or will administer it 
better: that he, by this resistance, can introduce a 
change to its advantage, and this without any conse- 
quential evils that will bear proportion to the said ad- 
vantage. 

Whether this were not in appearance the case of 
Balmerino, I will not presume to say : how conceiv- 
ed, or from what delusion sprung. But as, 1 think, 
he was reputed an honest man, in other respects, one 
may guess his behaviour was rather owing to the mis- 
representations of his reason, than to any depravity, 
perverseness, or disingenuity of his will. 

If a person ought heartly to stickle for any cause 
it should be that of moderation. Moderation should 
be his pai'ty. 



AND MANNERS. 



i9i 



EG0'2'1SMS,»„FR0M MY OIVN SENSATIONS, 



I. 

I HATE maritime expressions, smiles, and al- 
lusions ; my dislike, I suppose, proceeds from the 
unnaturalness of shipping, and the great share which 
^rt ever claims in that practice. 

II. 

I am thankful that my name is obnoxious to no pun. 

III. 
May I always have an heart superior, with econ- 
omy suitable, to my fortune 1 

IV. 

Inanimates, toys, utensils, seem to merit a kind 
of affection from us, when they have been our com- 
panions through various vicissitudes. I have often 
viewed my watch, standish, snuff-box, with this 
kind of tender regard; allotting them a degree of 
friendship, which there are some men, who do not 
deserve : 

" Midst many faithless only faithful found !" 

V. 

I loved Mr. Somerville, because he knew so per- 
fectly what belonged to the flocci-nauci-nihili-pilifi- 
cation of money. 

VI. 

It is with me in regard to the earth itself, as it is 
in regard to those that walk upon its surface. I love 
to pass by crowds, and to catch distant viev/s of the 



I 2 



ESSAYS ON MEN 

country as I walk along; but I insensibly chuse to 
sit where I cannot see two yards before me. 

VII. 

I begin too soon in life, to slight the world more 
than is consistent with making a figure in it. The 
" non est tanti" of Ovid grows upon me so fast that 
in a few years I shall have no passion. 

VIII. 

I am obliged to the person that speaks me fair to 
my face. I am only more obliged to the man who 
speaks well of me Jn my absence also. Should I be 
asked whether I chose to have a person speak well 
of me when absent or present, I should answer the 
latter ; for were all men to do so, the former would 
be insignificant. 

IX. 

I feel an avarice of social pleasure, which produ- 
ces only mortification. I never see a town or city in 
a map, but I figure to myself many agreeable per- 
sons in it, with whom I could wish to be acquainted. 

X. 

It is a miserable thing to be sensible of the value 
of one's time, and yet restrained by circumstances 
from making a proper use of it. One feels one's self 
somewhat in the situation of Admiral Hosier. 

XI. 

It is a miserable thing to love where one hates j 
and yet it is not inconsistent. 

XII. 
The modern world considers it as a part of polite- 
ness, to drop the mention of kindred in all addresses 



AND MANNERS. 1051 

to relations. There is no doubt, that it puts our ap- 
probation and esteem upon a less partial footing. I 
think, where I value a friend, I would not suffer my 
relation to be obliterated even to the twentieth ge- 
neration : it serves to connect us closer. Wherever 
I dise&teemed, I would abdicate my first-cousin. 

XITI. 

Circumlocutory, philosophical obscenity appears 
to me the most nauseous of all stuff: shall I say it 
takes away the spirit from it, and leaves you nothing 
but a caput mortuum ? or shall I say rather it is a 
Sir....e in an envelope of fine gilt paper, which only 
raises expectation ? Could any be allowed to talk 
obscenely with a grace, it were downright country 
fellows, who use an unaffected language : but even 
among these, as they grow old, it partakes again of 
affectation. 

XIV. 

It is some loss of liberty to resolve on schemes be- 
fore-hand. 

XV. 

There are a sort of people to whom one would al- 
lot good wishes and perform good offices : but they 
are sometimes those, with whom one would by no 
means share one's time. 

XVI. 
I would have all men elevated to as great an height, 
as they can discover a lustre to the naked eye. 

XVII. 

I am surely more inclined (of the two) to pretend 
a false disdain, than an unreal esteem. 



^04 ESS^AYS ON MEN 



XVIII. 

Yet why repine ? I have seen mansions on the 
verge of Wales that convert my farm-house into an 
Hamptoncourt, and where they speak of a glazed 
window as a great piece of magnificence. All things 
figure by comparison. 

XIX. 

I do not so much want to avoid being cheated, as 
to afford the^xpence of being so: the generality of 
mankind being seldom in good humour but whilst 
they are imposing upon you in some shape or other. 

XX. 

I cannot avoid comparing the ease and freedom I 
enjoy, to the ease of an old shoe ; where a certain 
degree of shabbiness is joined with the convenience. 

XXI. 

Not Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, Coptic, nor even th« 
Chinese language, seems half so difficult to me as 
the language of refusal. 

XXII. 

I actually dreamt that somebody told me I must 
not print my^,pieces separate. That certain stars 
would, if single, be hardly conspicuous, wTiich, unit- 
ed in a narrow compass, form a very splendid con- 
stellation. 

XXIII. 

The ways of ballad-singers, and the cries of lialf- 
penny-pamphlets, appeared so extremely humourous, 
from my lodgings in Fleet-street, that it gave me pain 
to obseive them without a companion to partake. 
For alas I laughter is by no means a solitary enter- 
tainment. 



AND MANNERS. 105 



XXIV. 

Had I a fortune of eight or ten thousand pounds a 
year, I would methinks make myself a neighbour- 
hood. I would first build a village with a church, and 
people it with inhabitants of some branch of trade 
that was suitable to the country round. I would then, 
at proper distances, erect a number of genteel boxes 
of about a thousand pounds a piece, and amuse my- 
self with giving them all the advantages they could 
receive from taste. These would I people with a se- 
lect number of well-chosen friends, assigning to each 
annually the sum of two hundred pounds for life. 
The salary should be irrevocable, in order to give 
them independency. The house, of a more preca- 
rious tenure, that, in cases of ingratitude, I might 
introduce another inhabitant.. ..How plausible how-, 
ever this may appear in speculation, perhaps a very 
natural and lively novel might be founded upon the 
inconvenient consequences of it, when put in execu- 
tion. 

XXV. 

I think, I have observed universally that the quar- 
rels of friends in the latter part of life, are never truly 
reconciled. " Male sarta gratia necquicquam coit, 
et rescinditur." A wound in the friendship of young 
persons, as, in the bark of young trees, may be so 
grown over, as to leave no scar. The case is very 
different in regard to old persons and old timber. 
The reason of this may be accountable from the de- 
cline of the social passions, and the pi'evalence of 
spleen, suspicion, and rancour, towards the latter 
part of life. 

XXVI. 

There is nothing, to me, more irksome than to 
hear weak and servile people repeat with admiration 



106 ISSAYS ON MES 

every silly speech that falls from a mere person of 
rank and fortune. It is, " cran.be bis cocta."....The 
nonsense grows more nauseous through the medium 
of their admiration, and shews the venality of vulgar 
tempers, which can consider fortune as the goddess 
pf wit. 

XXVII 

What pleasure it is to pay ones debts I I remem- 
ber to have heard Sir T. Lyttleton make the same 
observation. It seems to flow from a combination of 
circumstances, each of which is productive of plea- 
sure. In the first place, it removes that uneasiness, 
which a true spirit feels from dependence and obliga- 
tion. It affords pleasure to the creditor, and there- 
fore gratifies our social affection : it promotes that fu- 
ture confidence, which is so very interesting to an 
honest mind : it opens a prospect of being readily 
supplied with what we want on future occasions : it 
leaves a consciousness of our own virtue » and it is a 
measure we know to be right, both in point of justice 
and of sound economy. Finally, it is a main support 
of simple reputation, 

XXVII. 

It is a maxim with me (and I would recommend 
It to others also, upon the score of prudence) when- 
ever I lose a person's friendship, who generally com- 
mences enemy, to engage a fresh friend in his place. 
And this may be best effected by bringing over some 
of one's enemies ; by which means one is a gainer, 
having the same number of friends at least, if not an 
enemy the less. Such a method of proceeding, should 
I think, be as regularly observed, as the distribution 
of vacant ribbons, upon the death of knights of the 
garter. 



AND MANNERS. \07 

XXIX. 

It has been a maxim with me to admit of an easy- 
reconciliation with a person, whose offence proceed- 
ed from no depravity of heart J but where I was con- 
vinced it did so, to forego, for my own sake, all op- 
portunities of revenge : to forget the persons of my 
enemies as much as I was able, and to call to remem- 
brance, in their place, the more pleasing idea of my 
friends. lam convinced that I have derived no small 
share of happiness from this principle. 

I have been formerly so silly as to hope, that, every 
servant I had might be made a friend : I am now con- 
vinced that the nature of servitude generally bears a 
contrary tendency. Peoples characters are to be chief- 
ly collected from their education and place in life : 
birth itself does but little. Kings in general are born 
with the same propensities as other men : but yet it 
is probable, that from the licence and flattery that 
attends their education, that they will be more haugh- 
ty, more luxurious, and more subjected to their pas- 
sions, than any men beside. I question not but there 
are many attorneys born with open and honest hearts : 
but I know not one, that has had the least practice, 
who is not selfish, trickish, and disingenuous. So it 
is the nature of servitude to discard all generous mo- 
tives of obedience ; and to point out no other than 
those scoundrel ones of interest and fear. There are 
however some exceptions to this rule, which I know 
by my own experience. 



■lot ESSAYS ON MEU 



OS DUESS, 

DRESS, like writing, should never appear the 
effect of too much study and application. On this ac- 
count, I have seen parts of dress, in themselves ex- 
tremely beautiful, which at the same time subject 
the wearer to the character of foppishness and affec- 
tation. 

II. 

A man's dress in the former part of life should ra- 
ther tend to set off his person, than to express riches, 
rank or dignity : in the latter the reverse. 

f III. 

Extreme elegance in liveries, I mean such as is ex- 
pressed by the more languid colours, is altogether 
absurd. They ought to be rather gawdy than gen- 
teel ; if for no other rea»on, yet for this, that elegance 
may more strongly distinguish the appearance of the 
gentleman. 

IV. 

It is a point out of doubt with me, that the ladies 
are most properly the judges of the men's dress, and 
the men of that of the ladies. 

V. 

I thinks till thirty, or with some a little longer, 
people should dress in a way that is most likely to pro- 
cure the love of the opposite sex. 

VI. 

There are many modes of dress, which the world 
esteems handsome, which are by no means calculated 
to shew the human figure to advantage. 



AND MANNERS. 109 

VII. 

Love can be founded upon nature only ; or the ap- 
pearance of it. ...For this reason, however a peruke 
may tend to soften the human features, it can very 
seldom make amends for the mixture of artifice which 
it discovers. 

VIII. 

A rich dress adds but little to the beauty of a per- 
son. It may possibly create a deference, but that is 
rather an enemy to love : 

*« Non bene conveniimt nee in una sede niorantur 

♦' Majestas & amor." Ovid. 

IX. 

Simplicity can scarce be carried too far : provided 
it be not so singular as to excite a degree of ridicule. 
The same caution may be requisite in regard to the 
value of your dress : though splendor be not neces- 
sary, you must remove all appearance of poverty : the 
ladies being rarely enough sagacious to acknowledge 
beauty through the disguise of poverty. Indeed, I 
believe sometimes they mistake grandeur of dress, 
for beauty of person. 

X. 

A person's manner is never easy, whilst he feels a 
consciousness that he is fine. The country-fellow, 
considered in some lights, appears genteel ; but it is 
not when he is dressed on Sundays, with a large nose- 
gay in his bosom. It is when he is reaping, making 
hay, or when he is hedging in his burden frock. It 
is then he acts with ease, and thinks himself equal to 
his apparel. 



119 ESSAYS ON MEN 

XI. 

When a man has run all lengths himself with re- 
gard to dress, there is but one means remaining, which 
can add to his appearance. Andthis consists in ha- 
ving recourse to the utmost plainness of his own ap- 
parel, and at the same time richly garnishing his 
footman or his horse. Let the servant appear as fine 
as ever you please, the world must always consider 
the master as his superior. And this is that pecu- 
liar excellence so much admired In the best painters 
as well as poets ; Raphael as w'ell as Virgil : where 
somewhat is left to be supplied by the spectator's and 
reader's imagination. 

XII. 

Methinks, apparel should be rich in the sam.e pro- 
portion as it is gay : it otherwise carries the appear- 
ance of somewhat unsubstantial : in other words, of 
a greater desire than ability to m.ake a figure. 

XIIT. 

Persons are oftentimes misled in regard to their 
choice of dress, by attending to the beauty of colours, 
rather than selecting such colours as may -encrease 
their own beauty. 

XIV. 
I cannot see why a person should be esteemed 
haughty, on account of his taste for finecloaths, any 
more than one who discovers a fondness for birds, 
flowers, moths, or butterflies. Imagination influ- 
ence both to seek amusement in glowing colours ; 
only the former endeavours to give them a nearer 
relation to himself. It appears to me, that a person 
may love splendor v/ilhout any degree of pride ; 
which is never connected with this taste but when a 
person demands homage on account of the finery he 



AND MANNERS. Ill 

exhibits. Then it ceases to be taste, and commences 
mere ambition. Yei the world is not enough candid 
to make this essential distinction. 

XV. 

The first instance an officer gives you of his cour- 
age, consists in wearing cloaths infinitely superior to 
his rank. 

XVI. 

Men of quality never appear more amiable than 
when their dress is plain. Their l)irth, rank, title, 
and its appendages^ are at best invidious ; and as tb.ey 
do not need the assistance of dressv so, by their dis- 
claiming the advantage of it, they make their supe- 
riority sit more easy. It is otherwise with such as 
depend alone on personal merit ; and it was from 
hence, I presume, that Quin asserted he could not 
afford to go plain. 

XVII. 

There are certain shapes and physiognomies, of so 
entirely vulgar a cast, that they could scarce win re- 
spect even in the country, though they were embel- 
lished with a dress as tawdry as a pulpit-cloth. 



XVIII. 

A large retinue upon a small income, like a large 
cascade upon a small stream, tends to discover its 

tr^nnitv- 



XIX. 

Why are perfumes so much decryed ? When a 
person on his approach diffuses them, does he not re- 
vive the idea which the ancients ever entertained con- 
cerning the descent of superior beings, *' veiled in a 
cloud of fragrance ?" 



WH ESSAYS ON MEN 

XX. 

The lowest people are generally tlie first to find 
fault with shew or equipage ; especially that of a per- 
son lately emerged from his obscurity. They never 
once consider that he is breaking the ice for them- 
selves. 



OW {VRirrii^G AND BOOKS, 

I. 

FINE writing is generally the effect of sponta- 
neous thoughts and a laboured style. 

II. 

Long sentences in a short composition are like 
large rooms in a little house. 

III. 

The world may be divided into people that read, 
people that write, people that think, and fox-hunters. 

IV. 

Instead of whining complaints concerning the im- 
agined cruelty of their mistresses, if poets would ad- 
dress the same to their muse, they would act more 
agreeably to nature and to truth. 

V. 

Superficial writers, like the mole, often fancy them- 
selves deep, when they are exceeding near the surface. 



AND MANNERS. il3 

VI. 

<• Sumite materiam veslrls, qui scribitis, acquam 
" Vlribus"" 

Authors often fail by printing their works on a demi- 
royal, that should have appeared on ballad-paper, to 
make their performance appear laudable. 

VII. 

There is no word in the Latin language, that sig- 
nifies a female friend. " Arnica" means a mistress : 
and perhaps there is no friendship betwixt the sexes 
wholly disunited from a degree of love. 

VIII. 

The chief advantage that ancient writers can boast 
over modern ones, seems owing to simplicity. Eve- 
ry noble truth and sentiment was expressed by the 
former in the natural manner ; in word and phrase, 
simple, perspicuous, and incapable of improvement. 
What then remained for later writers but affectation, 
witticism, and conceit ? 

IX. 

One can, now and then, reach an author's head 
when he stoops ; and, induced by this circumstance, 
aspire to measure height with him. 

X. 

The national opinion of a book or treatise is not al- 
ways right...." est ubi peccat.".. ..Milton's Paradise 
Lost is one instance. I mean, the cold reception it 
met with at first, 

XI. 

Perhaps, an acquaintance with men of genius is 
rathe r reputable than satisfactory. It is as unaccount- 
able, as it is certain, that fancy heightens sensibili- 
K2 



114 ESSAYS ON MEN 

ty ; sensibility strengthens passion ; and passion 
makes people humourists. 

Yet a person of genius is often expected to shew 
iTiore discretion than another man ; and this on ac- 
count of that very vivacity, which is his greatest im- 
pediment. This happens for want of distinguishing 
betwixt the fanciful talents and the dry mathemati- 
cal operations of the judgment, each of which in- 
discriminately give the denomination of a man of 
genius. 

XII. 

An actor never gained a reputation by acting a bad 
play, nor a musician by playing on a bad instrument. 

XIII. 

Poets seem to have fame, in lieu of most tempo- 
ral advantages. They are too little formed for busi- 
ness, to be respected : too often feared or envied, to 
be beloved. 

XIV. 
Tully ever seemed an instance to me, how far a 
nian devoid of courage, may be a spirited writer. 

XV. 

One would rather be a stump of laurel than the 
slump of a church-yard yew-tree. 

XVI. 

" Degere more ferx." Virg. Vanbrugh seems 
to have had this of Virgil in his eye, when he intro- 
duces Miss Hoyden envying the liberty of a grey- 
hound bitch. 

XVII. 

There is a certain flimziness of poetry, which 
seems expedient in a song. 



AND MANNERS. US 

XVIII. 

Dido, as well as Desdemona*, seems to have 
been a mighty admirer of strange atchievements ; 

" Heu ! quibusille 
«' Jactatus fatis! quae bella exhausta canebat ! 
*« Si mihinon," &c. 

This may shew that Virgil, Shakspeare, and Shaftes- 
bury agreed in the same opinion. 

XIX. 

It is often observed of wits, that they will lose 
their best friend for the sake of a joke. Candour 
may discover, that it is their greater degree of the 
love of fame, not the less degree of their benevolence, 
which is the cause. 

XX. 

People in high or in distinguished life ought to 
have a greater circumspection in regard to their most 
trivial actions. For instance, I saw Mr. Pope ....and 
what was he doing when you saw him ?....why, to the 
best of my memory, he was picking his nose. 

XXI. 

Even Joe Miller in his jests has an eye to poetical 
justice ; generally gives the victory or turns the 
laugh on the side of merit. No small compliment 
to mankind ! 

XXII. 

To say a person writes a good style, is originally 
as pedantic an expression, as to say he plays a good 
fiddle. 

• Lord Shaftesbury. 



116 ESSAYS ON MEN 



XXIII. 



The first line of Virgil seems to patter like an 
hailstorm...." Tityre, tu patul^e," Stc. 

XXIV. 

The vanity and extreme self-love of the French is 
no where more observable than in their authors ; and 
among these, in none more than Boileau ; who, be- 
sides his rhodomontades, preserves every the most 
insipid reading in his notes, though he have remov- 
ed it from the text for the sake of one ever so much 
better. 

XXV. 

The writer who gives us the best idea of what may 
be called the genteel in style and manner of writ- 
ing, is, in my opinion, my Lord Shaftesbury. Then 
Mr. Addison and Dr. Swift. 

A plain narrative of any remarkable fact, emphat- 
ically related, has a more striking effect without the 
author's comment. 

XXVI. 

Long periods and short seem analogous to gothic 
and modern stair cases : the former were of such a 
size as our heads and legs could barely command ; 
the latter such, that they might command half a dozen. 

I think nothing truly poetic, at least no poetry 
worth composing, that does not strongly affect one's 
passions : and this is but slenderly effected by fables, 

" Incredulus odi." Hon. 

XXVII. 

A preface very frequently contains such a piece of 
criticism, as tends to countenance and establish the 
peculiarities of the piece. 



AND MANNERS. 1 17 



XXVIII. 

I hate a style, as I do a garden, that is wholly flat 
and regular; that slides along like an eel, and never 
rises to what one can call an inequality. 

XXIX. 

It is obvious to discover that impe. fecticns of one 
kind have a visible tendency to produce perfections of 
another. Mr. Pope's bodily disadvantages must in- 
cline him to a more laborious cultivation of his talent, 
without which he foresaw that he must have lan- 
guished in obscurity. The advantages of person are 
a good deal essential to popularity in the grave world 
as well as the gay. Mr. Pope, by an unwearied ap- 
plication to poetry, became not only the favourite of 
the learned, but also of the ladies. 

XXX. 

Pope, I think, never once mentions Prior ; though 
Prior speaks so handsomely of Pope in his Alma. 
One might imagine that the latter, indebted as he was 
to the former for such numberless beauties, should 
have readily repaid this poetical obligation. This 
can only be imputed to pride or party cunning. In 
other words, to some modification of selfishness. 

XXXI. 

Virgil never mentions Horace, though indebted to 
him for two very well-natured compliments. 

XXXII. 

Pope seems to me the most correct writer since 
Virgil J the greatest genius only, since Dryden. 

XXXIII. 

No one was ever more fortunate than Mr. Pope in 
judicious choice of his poetical subjects. 



lis ESSAYS ON MEN 

XXXIV. 

Pope's talent lay remarkably in what one may na- 
turally enough terra the condensation of thoughts. 
I think, no other English poet ever brought so much 
sense into the same number of lines with equal smooth- 
ness, ease, and poetical beauty. Let him who doubts 
of this peruse his Essay on Man with attention. Per- 
haps, this was a talent from which he could not easi- 
ly have swerved ; perhaps, he could not have suffi- 
ciently rarefied his thoughts to produce that fiimziness 
which is required in a ballad or love-song. His mon- 
ster ofRagusa and his translations from Chaucer 
have some little tendency to invalidate this observa- 
tion. 

XXXV. 

I durst not have censured Mr. Pope's writings in his 
life-time, you say. True. A writer surrounded with 
all his fame, engaging with another that is hardly 
known, is a man in armour attacking another in his 
night-gown and slippers. 

XXXVI. 

Pope's religion is often found very advantageous 
to his descriptive talents, as it is no doubt embellish- 
ed with the most pompous scenes and ostentatious 
imagery : for instance, 

*' When from the censer clouds of, &c." 

XXXVII. 

Pope has made the utmost advantage of alliteration, 
regulating it by the pause with the utmost success : 

" Die and endow a college or a cat," &c. &c. 

It is an easy kind of beauty. Dryden seems to have 
borrowed it from Spenser. 



AND MANNERS. 119 

XXXVIII. 
Pope has published fewer foibles than any other po- 
et that is equally voluminous. 

XXXIX. 

It is no doubt extremely possible to form an English 
prosody ; but to a good ear it were almost superflu- 
ous, and to a bad one useless ; this last being, I be- 
lieve,, never joined with a poetic genius. It may be 
joined with wit; it may be connected with sound 
judgment : but is surely never united with taste, which 
is the life and soul of poetry. 

XL. 

Rhymes, in elegant poetry, should consist of sylla- 
bles that are long in pronunciation : such as "are, ear, 
ir»e,ore,your;"in which anice ear willfind more agree- 
ableness than in these " gnat, net, knit, knot, nut." 

XLI. 

There is a vast beauty (to me) in using a word of 
a particular nature in the eighth and ninth syllables 
of an English verse. I mean, what is virtually a 
dactyl. For instance, 

" And pikes, the tyrants of the watry plains." 

Let any person of an ear substitute " liquid" instead 
of " watry," and he will find the disadvantage. Mr. 
Pope (who has improved our versification through a 
judicious disposition of the pause) seems not enough 
aware of this beauty. 

XLII. 

As to the frequent use of alliteration, it has proba- 
bly had its day. 



120 ESSAYS ON MEM 

XLTII. 

It has ever a good effect when the stress of the 
thought is laid upon that word which the voice most 
naturally pronounces with an emphasis. 

** I nunc & versus tecum meditare," 8cc. Hor. 

«' Quam vellent se there in alto 

*' Nunc & pauperiem," &c. Vtrg. 

•' O fortunati, quorum jam m2enia, &c. Virg. 

«' At regina gravi jamdudum," &c. Virg. 

Virgil, whose very metre appears to effect one's pas- 
sions, was a master of this secret. 

XLIV. 

There are numbers in the world, who do not want 
sense, to make a figure ; so much as an opinion of 
their own abilities, to put them upon recording theiiv 
observations, and allowing them the same importance 
which they do to those which others print. 

XLV. 

A good writer cannot with the utmost study pro- 
duce some thoughts, which will flow from a bad one 
with ease and precipitation. The reverse is also true. 
A bad writer, &c. 

XLVI. 

" Cxreat wits have short memories" is a proverb ; 
and as such has undoubtedly some foundation in na- 
ture. The case seems to be, that men of genius 
forget things of common concern, unimportant factsr 
and circumstances, which make no slight impression 
in every-day minds. But sure it will be found that 
all wit depends on memory ; i. e. on the recollection 
of passages, either to illustrate or contrast with any 



AND MANNERS. 12l 

present occasion. It is probably the fate of a com- 
mon understanding to fort^et the very things which 
the man of wit remembers. But an oblivion of those 
things which almost every one remembers renders 
his case the more remarkable, and this explains the 
mystery. 

XLVII. 

Prudes allow no quarter to such ladies as have fall- 
en a sacrifice to the gentle passions ; either because 
themselves, being borne away by the malignant ones, 
perhaps never felt the other so powerful as to occa- 
sion them any difficulty ; or because no one has 
tempted them to transgress that way themselves. It 
is the same case with some critics, with regard to 
the errors of ingenious writers. 

XLVIII. 

It seems with wit and good-nature, " Utrum hor- 
um mavis accipe." Taste and good-nature are uni- 
versally connected. 

XLIX. 

Voiture's compliments to ladies are honest on ac- 
count of their excess. 



Poetry and consumptions are the most flattering of 
diseases. 

LI. 

Every person insensibly fixes upon some degree of 
refinement in his discourse, some measure of thought 
which he thinks worth exhibiting. It is wise to fix 
this pretty high, although it occasions one to talk the 
less. 

I. 



122 ESSAYS ON- MEM 



LIT. 

Some men use no other means to acquire respect, 
than by insisting on it ; and it sometimes answers 
their purpose, as it does an highwayman's in regard 
to money. 

LIII. 

There is nothing exerts a genius so much as writ- 
ing plays ; the reason is, that the writer puts him- 
self in the place of every person that speaks. 

LIV. 

Perfect characters in a poem make but little bettcp 
figure than regular hills, perpendicular trees, uniform 
rocks, and level sheets of water, in the formation of 
a landscfipe. The reason is, they are not natural, 
and moreover want variety. 

LV. 

Trifles discover a character more than actions of 
importance. In regard to the former, a person is off 
his guard, and thinks it not material to use disguise. 
It is, to me, no imperfect hint towards the discovery 
of a man's character, to say he looks as though you 
might be certain of finding a pin upon his sleeve. 

LVI. 

A grarnmarian speaks of first and second person : 
A poet of Celia and Cory don : A mathematician of A 
and B : a lawyer of Nokes and Styles. The A^ery 
quintessence of pedantry ! 

LVII. 

Shakspeare makes his very bombast answer his pur- 
pose, by the persons he chuses to utter it. 



AND MANNERS. 1:23 

LVIII. 

A poet, till he arrives at tliirty, can see no other 
good than a poetical reputation. About that sera, he 
begins to discover some other. 

LIX. 

The plan of Spencer's Fairy-queen appears to me 
very imperfect. His imagination, tho;iL,h very ex- 
tensive, yet somewhat less so, perhaps, than is gen- 
erally allowed ; if one considers the facility of realiz- 
iiig' and equipping forth the virtues and vices. His 
metre has some advantages, though, in many res- 
pects, exceptionable. His good-nature is visible 
through every part of his poem. His conjunction of 
the pagan and christian schem^e (as he introduces the 
deities of both acting simultaneously) wholly inex- 
cusable. Much art and judgment are discovered in 
parts, and but little in the whole. One may enter- 
tain some doubt whether the perusal of his mon- 
strous descriptions be not as prejudicial to true taste, 
as it is advantageous to the extent of imagination. 
Spencer, to be sure, expands the last ; but then he 
expands it beyond its due limits. After all, there 
are many favourite passages in his Fairy -queen, 
which will be instances of a great and cultivated 
genius misapplied. 

LX. 

A poet, that fails in writing, becomes often a mo- 
rose critic. The weak and insipid white wine makes 
at length excellent vinegar. 

LXI. 

People of fortune, perhaps, covet the acquaintance 
of established writers, not so much upon account of 
the social pleasure, as the credit of it : Tne former 



124 ESSAYS ON MEN 

would induce them to chuse persons of less capaci- 
ties, and tempers more conformable. 

LXII. 

Language is to the understanding what a genteel 
motion is to the body ; a very great advantage. But 
a person may be superior to another in understand- 
ing, that has not an equal dignity of expression ; 
and a man may boast an handsomer figure, that is in- 
ferior to another in regard to motion. 

LXIII. 

The words ^' no more" have a single pathos : re- 
minding us at once of past pleasures and the future 
exclusion of it. 

LXIV. 

Every single observation that is published by a man 
of genius, be it ever so trivial, should be esteemed of 
importance ; because he speaks from his own impres- 
sions ; whereas common men publish common things, 
which they have, perhaps, gleaned from frivolous wri- 
ters. 

LXV. 

It is providential that our affection diminishes in 
proi)ortion as our friends pov/er encreases. Afiec- 
tion is of less importance whenever a person can sup- 
port himself. It is on this account that younger broth- 
ers are often beloved more than their elders ; and 
that Benjamin is the favourite. We may trace the 
same law throughout the animal creation. 

LXVI. 

The time of life when fancy predominates, is youth; 
the season when judgment decides best, is age. Po- 
ets, therefore, are always, inrcsj^ect of their disposi- 



AND MANNERS. 125 

tion, younger than other persons : a circumstance 
that gives the latter part of their lives some incon- 
sistency. The cool phlegmatic tribe discover it in 
the former. 

LXVII. 

One sometimes meets with instances of genteel ab- 
ruption in writers ; but I wonder it is not used more 
frequently, as it has a prodigious effect upon the rea- 
der. For instance (after Falstaff's disappointment ser- 
ving Shallow at Court) 

" Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pounds" 

Shakspeare. 

When Pandulph commanded Philip of France to 
proceed no farther against England, but to sheath the 
sword he had drawn at the Pope's own instigation. 

" Now it had already cost Philip eighty thousand 
*' pound in preparations." 

After the detail of king John's abject submission 
to the Pope's legate: 

" Now John was hated and despised before." 

But, perhaps, the strongest of all may be taken 
from the Scripture (Conclusion of a chapter in St. 
John) 

" Now Barabbas was a robber.".... 

LXVIII. 

A poet hurts himself by writing prose ; as a race- 
horse hurts his motions by condescending to draw in 
a team. 

LXIX. 

The superior politeness of the French is in nothing 
more discernible than in the phrases used by them 
L 2 



126 ESSAYS ON MEN 

and us to express an affair being in agitation. The 
former says, " sur la tapis ;" the latter " upon the 
anvil." Does it not shew also the sincerity and seri- 
ous face with which we enter upon business, and the 
negligent and jaunty air with which they perform 
eveii the most important ? 

LXX. 

There are two qualities adherent to the most inge- 
nious authors : I donot mean without exception. A 
decent pride that will admit of no servility, and a sheep- 
ish bashfulness that keeps their worth concealed : the 
*' superbia qusesita merilis" and the " malus pudor" 
of Plorace. The one will not suffer them to make ad- 
vances to the great ; the other disguises that merit 
for which the great would seek out them. Add to 
these the frequent indolence of speculative tempers. 

LXXI. 

A poetical genius seems the most elegant of 
youthful accomplishments ; but it is entirely a youth- 
ful one. Flights of fancy, gaiety of behaviour, 
sprightliness of dress, and a blooming aspect, con- 
spire very amicably to their mutual embellishment ; 
but the poetic talent has no more to do with age, 
than it would avail his Grace of Canterbury to have 
a knack at country dances, or a genius for a catch. 

LXXII, 

The most obsequious muses, like the fondest and 
most willing courtezans, seldom leave us any reason 
to boast much of their favours. 

LXXIII. 

If you write an original piece, you v/onder no one 
ever thought of the best of subjects before you j if a 
translation, of the best authors. 



AND MANNERS. 127 

LXXIV. 

The ancient poets seem to value themselves great- 
ly upon their power of perpetuating the fame of 
their contemporaries. Indeed the circumstance that 
has fixed their language, has been the only means of 
verifying some of their vain-glorious prophecies. 
Otherwise, the historians appear more equal to the 
task of conferring immortality. An history will live, 
though written ever so indifferently ; and is general- 
ly less suspected, than the rhetoric of the muses. 

LXXV. 

I wonder authors do not discover how much more 
elegant it is to fix their name to the end of their pre- 
face, or any introductory address, than to the title- 
page. It is, perhaps, for the sake of an F. R. S. or 
an L. L. D. at the end of it. 

It should seem, the many lies, discernible in books 
of travels, may be owing to accounts collected from 
improper people. Were one to give a character of 
the English, from what the vulgar act and believe, it 
would convey * a strange idea of the English under- 
standing. 

LXXVII. 

Might not the poem on the Seasons have been ren- 
dered more " uni," by giving out the design of na- 
ture in the beginning of winter, and afterwards con- 
sidering all the varieties of seasons as means aiming 
at one end ? 

LXXVIII. 

Critics must excuse me, if I compare them to cer- 
tain animals called asses ; who, by gnawing vines, 

* Missionaries clap a tail to every Indian nation that dislikes 
them. 



128 ESSAYS ON MEN 

originally taught the great advantage of pruning 
them. 

LXXIX. 

Every good poet includes a critic ; the reverse 
"will not hold. 

LXXX. 

We want a vrord to express the " Hospes" or 
" Hospita" of the ancients ; among them, perhaps, 
the most respectable of all characters ; yet with us 
translated " Host," which we apply also to an Inn- 
keeper. Neither have we any word to express 
*' Arnica," as if we thought a woman always wa9 
somewhat more or less than a friend. 

LXXXI. 

I know not where any Latin author uses " Igno- 
tos" otherwise than as " obscure Persons," as the 
modern phrase implies, " whom nobody knows." 
Yet it is used differently on Mrs.L 's monu- 
ment. 

LXXXII. 

The philosopher, who considered the world as one 
vast animal, could esteem himself no other than a 
louse upon the back of it. 

LXXXIII. 

Orators and stage-coachmen, when the one wants 
arguments and the other a coat of arms, adorn their 
cause and their coaches with rhetoric and flower-pots. 

LXXXIV. 

It is idle to be much assiduous in the 'perusal of 
inferior poetry. Homer, Virgil, and Horace give 



AND MANNERS. 129 

the true taste in composition ; and a person's own 
imagination should be able to supply the rest. 

In the same manner, it is superfluous to pursue 
inferior degrees of fame. One truly splendid ac- 
tion, or one well-finished composition, includes more 
than all the results from more trivial performances. 
I mean this for persons who make fame their only 
motive. 

Very fev/ sentiments are proper to be put in a per- 
son's mouth, during the first attack of grief. 

Every thing disgusts, but mere simplicity ; the 
scriptural writers describe their heroes using only 
some such phrase as this : " Alas I my brother 1" 
" O Absalom my son 1 my son 1" &c. The lamen- 
tation of Saul over Jonathan is more diffuse, but at 
the same time entirely simple. 

Angling is literally described by Martial : 

'< ....tremula piscem deducere seta." 

From " Ictum foedus" seems to come the English 
phrase and custom of striking a bargain. 

I like Ovid's Amours better than his Epistles. 
There seems a greater variety of natural thoughts : 
whereas, when one has read the subject of one of his 
epistles, one foresees what it will produce in a writer 
of his imagination. 

The plan of his Epistles for the most part well de- 
signed. ...The answers of Sabinus, nothing. 

Necessity may be the mother of lucrative inven- 
tion ; but is the death of poetical. 

If a person suspects his phrase to be somewhat too 
familiar and abject, it were proper he should accus- 
tom himself to compose in blank verse : but let him 
be much upon his guard against Ancient Pistol's 
phraseology. 



130 Essays on men 

Providence seems altogether impartial in the dispen 
sation which bestows riches upon one and a contempt 
of riches upon another. 

Respect is the general end for which riches, pow- 
er, place, title, and fame, are implicitly desired. 
AVhen one is possessed of the end through any one 
of these means, is it not wholly unphilosophical to 
covet the remainder ? 

Lord Shaftesbury, in the genteel management of 
some famihar ideas, seems to have no equal. He 
discovers an eloignment from vulgar phrases much 
becoming a person of quality. His sketches should 
be studied, like those of Raphael. His Enquiry is 
one of the shortest and clearest systems of morality. 

The question is, whether you distinguish me, be- 
cause you have better sense than other people ; or 
"whether you seem to have better sense than other 
people, because you distinguish me. 

One feels the same kind of disgust in reading Ro- 
man history, which one does in novels, or even epic 
poetry. We too easily foresee to whom the victory 
will fall. The hero, the knight-errant, and the Ro- 
man, are too seldom overcome. 

The elegance and dignity of the Romans is in no- 
thing more conspicuous than in their answers to am^ 
bassadors. 

There is an important omission in most of our 
grammar-schools, through which what we read, either 
of fabulous or real history, leaves either faint or con- 
fused impressions. I mean the neglect of old geo- 
graphical maps. Were maps of ancient Greece, 
Sicily, Italy, Sec. in use there, the knowledge we 
there acquire would not want to be renewed after- 
wards, as is now generally the case. 

A person of a pedantic turn will spend five years 
in translating, and contending for the beauties of a 
worse poem than he might write in five weeks himself. 



AND MANNERS. 131 

There seem to be authors who wish to sacrifice their 
whole character of genius to that of learning. 

Boileau has endeavoured to prove, in one of his 
admirable satires^ that man has no manner of pre- 
tence to prefer his faculties before those of the brute 
creation. Oldham has translated him : my Lord 
Rochester has imitated him : and even Mr. Pope de- 
clares, 

" That, reason raise o'er instinct how yon can, 
" In this 'tis God directs; in that 'tis man." 

Indeed, the Essay on Man abounds with illustra- 
tions of this maxim ; and it is amazing to find how 
many plausible reasons may be urged to support it. 
It seems evident that our itch of reasoning, and spirit 
of curiosity, precludes more happiness than it can 
possibly advance. What numbers of diseases are 
entirely artificial things, far from the ability of a brute 
to contrive ! We disrelish and deny ourselves cheap 
and natural gratifications, through speculative pre- 
sciences and doubts about the future. We cannot 
discover the designs of our Creator. We should 
learn then of brutes to be easy under our ignorance, 
and happy in those objects that seem intended, obvi- 
ously, for our happiness: not overlook the flowers of 
the garden, and foolishly perplex ourselves with the 
intricacies of the labyrinth. 

I wish but two editions of all books whatsoever. 
One of the simple text, published by a society of 
^ble hands : another with the various readings and 
remarks of the ablest commentators. 

To endeavour, all one's days, to fortify our minds 
with learning and philosophy, is to spend so much 
in armour that one has nothing left to defend. 

If one would think with philosophers, one must 
converse but little with the vulgar. These, by their 
very number, will force a person into a fondness for 



Io2 ESSAYS ON MEN 

appearance, a love of money, a desire of power ; 
and other plebeian passions: objects which they ad- 
mire, because they have no snare in, and have not 
learning to supply the place of experience. 

Livy, the most elegant and principal of the Ro- 
man historians, was, perhaps, as superstitious as the 
most unlearned plebeian. We see, he never is des- 
titute of appearances, accurately described and so- 
lemnly asserted, to support particular events by the 
interposition of exploded deities. The puerile atten- 
tion to chicken-feeding in a morning.. ..And then a 
piece of gravity: " Parva sunt hsec, sed parva ista 
non contemnenda : majores nostri maximam banc rem 
fecerunt." 

It appears from the Roman historians, that the Ro- 
mians had a particular veneration for the fortunate. 
Their epithet " Felix" seems ever to imply a fa- 
vourite of the gods. I am mistaken, or modern 
Rome has generally acted in an opposite manner. 
Numbers amongst them have been canonized upon 
the single merit of misfortunes. 

How different appears ancient and modern dialogue, 
on account of superficial subjects upon which we 
now generally converse ! add to this, the ceremonial 
of modern times, and the number of titles with 
which some kings clog and encumber conversation. 

The celebrated boldness of an eastern metaphor 
is, I believe, sometimes allowed it for the inconsid- 
erable similitude it bears to its subject. 

The style of letters, perhaps, should not rise 
higher, than the style of refined conversation. 

Love-verses written without real passion, are of- 
ten the most nauseous of all conceits. Those writ- 
ten from the heart will ever bring to mind that de- 
lightful season of youth, and poetry, and love. 

Virgil gives one such excessive pleasure in his 
writings, beyond any other writer, by uniting the 



AND MANNERS. 133 

most perfect harmony of metre, with the most plea- 
smg ideas or images : 

«* Qualem virgineo demessum polUceflorem ;'* 

And 

" Argentum Pariusve lapis" 

With a thousand better instances. 

Nothing tends so much to produce drukenness, or 
even madness, as the frequent use of parenthesis 
in conversation. 

Few greater images of impatience, than a general 
seeing his brave army over-matched and cut to pie- 
ces, and looking out continually to see his ally ap- 
proach with forces to his assistance. See Shakspeare. 

'« When my dear Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, 
«' Cast many a northward look to see his father 
♦* Bring up his pow'rs....but he did look in vain." 



, BOOKS) iJfc* 

SIMII.es, drawn from odd circumstances and 
effects strangely accidental, bear a near relation to 
false wit. The best instance of the kind is that cele- 
brated line of Waller : 

«» He grasp'd at love, and fiU'dhis hand with bays." 

Virgil discovers less wit, and more taste, than any 
writer in the world....Some instances ; 



longumque bibebat amorem. " 
M 



134 



ESSAYS ON MEN 



What Lucretius says of the " edita doctrin* sapien- 
" turn templa"...." the temples of philosophers"... ap- 
pears in no sense more applicable than to a snug and 
easy chariot : 

•' Dispicere unde queas alios, passimqiie videre 
" Errare, atque viam palantes quaerere vitee." 

i. e. From whence you may look down uponfootpas- 
sengers, see them wandering on each side you, and 
pick their way through the dirt : 

«' seriously 

" From learn'ng's tow 'ring height to gaze around, 
" And see plebeian spirits range below." 

There is a sort of masonry in poetry, w herein the 
pause represents the joints of building ; which ought 
in every line and course to have their disposition va- 
ried. 

The difference betwixt a witty writer and a writer 
of taste is chiefly this. The former is negligent what 
ideas he introduces, so he joins them surprisingly.... 
The latter is priilcipaily careful what images he in- 
troduces, and studies simplicity rather than surprize 
in his manner of introduction. 

It may in some measure account for the difference 
of taste in the reading of books, to consider the differ- 
ence of om- ears for music. One is not pleased with- 
out a perfect melody of style, be the sense what it will; 
another, of no ear for music, gives to sense its full 
weight v.iLbout any deduction on account of harshness. 

Harmony of period and melcdy of style have great- 
er weiglit than is generally imagined in the judg- 
ment we pass upon writing and writers. As a proof 
of this, let us reflect, what texts of scripture, what 
lines in poetry, or wiiat periods Vv'e most remember 
and quote, either in verse or prose, and .we shall find 
them to be only musical ones. 



AND MANNERS. 135 

I wonder the ancient mythology never shews Apol- 
lo enamoured of Venus ; considering the remarkable 
deference that wit has paid to beauty in all ages. The 
Orientals act more consonantly, when they suppose 
the nightingale enamoured of the rose ; the most har- 
monious bird of the fairest and most delightful fiower. 

Hope is a flatterer; but the most upright of all 
parasites ; for she frequents the poor man's hut, as 
well as the palace of his superior. 

What is termed humour in prose, I conceive, would 
be considered as burlesque in poetry : of which in- 
stances may be given. 

Perhaps, burlesque may be divided into such as 
turns chiefly upon the thought, and such as depends 
more upon the expression : or we may ?.(]ti a third 
kind, consisting in thoughts ridiculously dressed in 
language much above or below their dignity. 

The Splendid Shilling of Mr. Philips, and the Hu- 
dibras of Butler, are the most obvious ins^ ances. But- 
ler, however, depended much upon the ludicrous ef- 
fect of his double rhymes. In other respects, to de- 
clare my own sentiments, he is rather a witty writer 
than a humorous one. 

Scenes below verse, merely versified, lay claim to 
a degree of humour. 

Swift in poetry deserves a place somewhat betwixt 
Butler and Horace. He has the wit of the fcrmer, 
and the graceful negligence which we find in the lat- 
ter's epistles and satires. I believe, few people dis- 
cover less humour in Don Quixote than myself. For 
beside the general sameness of adventure, whereby 
it is easy to foresee what he will do on most occa- 
sions, it is not so easy to raise a laugh from the wild 
achievements of a madman. The natural passion 
in that case is pity, with some small portion of mirth 
at most. Sancho's character is indeed comic ; and, 



156 ESSAYS ON MEN 

were it removed from the romance, would discover 
how little there was of humour in the character of Don 
Quixote. 

It is a fine stroke of Cervantes, when Sancho, 
sick of his government, makes no answer to his 
comforters, but aims directly at his shoes and stock- 
ings. 



OF MEN AND MANNERS, 
I. 

THE arguments against pride drawn so fre- 
quently by our clergy from the general infirmity, 
circumstances, and catastrophe of our nature, are 
extremely trifling and insignificant. Man is not 
proud as a species, but as an individual ; not, as 
comparing himself with other beings, but with his 
fellow-creatures. 

II. 

I have often thought that people draw many of 
their ideas of agreeableness, in regard to proportion, 
colour, &C. from their own persons. 

III. 

It is happy enough that the same vices which im- 
pair one's fortune, frequently ruin our constitution, 
that the one may not survive the other. 

IV. 

Deference often shrinks and withers as much upon 
the approach of intimacy, as the sensitive plant dop§ 
upon the touch of one's finger. 



AND MANNER^. 



37 



V. 

The word Folly is perhaps the prettiest word in 
the language. Amusement and Diversion are good 
Avell meaning words ; but Pastime is what never should 
be used but in a bad sense : it is vile to say such a 
thing is agreeable, because it helps to pass the time 
away. 

VI. 

Dancing in the rough is one of the most natural 

expressions of joy, and coincides with jumping 

When it is regulated, it is merely, " cum ratione 
insanire." 

VII. 

A plain, down-right, open hearted fellow's conver- 
sation is as insipid, says Sir Plume, as a play with- 
out a plot ; it does not afford one the amusement of 
thinking. 

VIII. 

The fortunate have many parasites : Hope is the 
only one that vouchsafes attendance upon the wretch- 
ed and the beggar. 

IX. 

A man of genius mistaking his talent loses the ad- 
vantage of being distinguished ; a fool of being un- 
distinguished. 

X. 

Jealousy is the fear or apprehension of superiori- 
ty : Envy, our uneasiness under it. 

XI. 
What some people term Freedom is nothing else 
than a liberty of saying and doing disagreeable 
K2 



|>38 ESSAYS ON MEN 

things. It is but carrying the notion a little higher, 
and it would require us to break and have a head 
broken reciprocally without offence. 

XII. 
I cannot see why people are ashamed to acknow- 
ledge their passion for popularity. The love of po- 
pularity is the love of being beloved. 

XIII. 

The ridicule with which some people affect to tri- 
umph over their superiors, is as though the moon 
under an eclipse should pretend to laugh at the sun. 

XIV. 

Zealous men are ever displaying to you the strength 
of their belief, while judicious men are shewing yoi; 
the grounds of it. 

XV. 

I consider your very testy and quarrelsome people, 
in the same ligiit as I do a loaded gun : which may 
by accident go off and kill one. 

XVI. 

I am afraid humility to genius is as an extinguisher 
to a candle. ' 

XVII. 

Many persons, when exalted, assume an insolent 
humility, who behaved before with an insolent haugh- 
tiness. 

XVIII. 

Men are sometimes accused of pride, merely be- 
cause their accusers would be proud themselves, if 
they were in their places. 



AND MANNERS. 139 

XIX. 

Men of fine parts, they say, are often proud ; I 
answer, dull people are seldom so, and both act upon 
an appearance of reason. 

XX. 

It was observed of a most accomplished lady, that 
she was withal so very modest, that one sometimes 
thought she neglected the praises of her wit, because 
she could depend on those of her beauty ; at other 
times, that she slighted those of her beauty, knowing 
she might rely on those of her wit. 

XXI. 

The only difference betwixt wine and ale seems tO 
be that of chemic and galenic medicines. 

XXII. 
It is the reduplication or accumulation of compli- 
ments, that gives them their agreeableness : I mean 
when, seeming to wander from the subject, you re- 
turn to it again with greater force. As a common 
instance : " I wish it was capable of a precise de- 
monstration how much I esteem, love, and honour 
you, beyond all the rich, the gay, the great of this 
sublunary sphere : but I believe that both divines and 
laymen will agree that the sublimest and most valu- 
able truths are oftentimes least capable of demon- 
stration." 

XXIII. 
It is a noble piece of policy that is used in some 
arbitrary governments (but suitable to none other) to 
instil it into the minds of the people that their Great 
Duke knoweth^all things. 



140 ESSAYS ON MEN 

XXIV. 

In a heavy oppressive atmosphere, when the spirits 
sink too low, the best cordial is to read over all the 
letters of ones friends. 

XXV. 

Pride and modesty are sometimes found to unite 
together in the same character : and the mixture is as 
salutary as that of wine and water. The worst com- 
bination I know is that of avarice and pride ; as the 
former naturally obstructs the good that pride even- 
tually produces. What I mean is, expence. 

XXVI. 

A great many tunes, by a variety of circumrotato- 
ry flourishes, put one in mind of a lark's descent to 
the ground. 

XXVII. 
People frequently use this expression, " I am in- 
clined to think so and so ;" not considering that they 
are then speaking the most literal of all truths. 

XXVIII. 

The first part of a newspaper which an ill-natured 
man examines, is, the list of bankrupts, and the bills 
of mortality. 

XXIX. 

The chief thing which induces men of sense to use 
airs of superiority, is the contemplation of coxcombs ; 
that is, conceited fools ; who would otherwise run 
away with the men of sense's privileges. 

XXX. 

To be entirely engrossed by antiquity* *'*ifid as it 
were eaten up with rust, is a bad c« „ .,.ftent to the 
present age. 



AND MANNERS. 141 

XXXI. 

Ask to borrow six-pence of the Muses, and they 
tell you at present they are out of cash, but hereaf- 
ter they will furnish you with five thousand pounds. 

XXXII. 

The argument against restraining our passions, be- 
cause we shall not always have it in our power to 
gratify them, is much stronger for their restraint, 
than it is for their indulgence. 

XXXIII. 

Few men, that would cause respect and distance 
merely, can say any thing by which their end will be 
so effectually answered as by silence. 

XXXIV. 

There is nothing more universally commended than 
a fine day ; the reason is, that people can commend 
it without envy. 

XXXV. 

One may, modestly enough, calculate ones ap- 
pearance for respect upon the road, where respect 
and conveniences so remarkably coincide. 

XXXVI. 

Although a man cannot procure himself a title at 
pleasure, he may vary the appellation he goes by, 
considerably. As, from Tom, to Mr. Thomas, to 
Mr. Musgrove, to Thomas Musgrove, esquire. And 
this by a behaviour of reserve, or familiarity. 

XXXVII. 

For a man of genius to condescend in conversation 
with vulgar people, gives the sensation that a tall man 
feels on being forced to stoop in a low room. 



143 ISSAYS ON MEN 

XXXVIII. 

There is nothing more universally prevalent than 
flattery. Persons, who discover the flatterer, do not 
always disapprove him, because he imagines them 
considerable enough to deserve his applications. It 
is a tacit sort of compliment, that he esteems them 
to be such as it is worth his while to flatter : 

" And when I tell him he hates flattery, 

*« He says he does, being then most flattered." 

SlIAKSPEARK. 

XXXIX. 

A person has sometimes more public than private 
merit. Honorio and his family wore mourning for 
their ancestor ; but that of all the world was internal 
and sincere. 

Your plain domestic people, who talk of their hu- 
mility and home felt satisfactions, will in the same 
breath discover how much they envy a shining char- 
acter. How is this consistent ? 

You are prejudiced, says Pedanticus ; I will not 
take your word, or your character of that man. ...But 
the grounds of my prejudice are the source of my 
accusation. 

A proud man's intimates are generally more at- 
tached to him, than the man of merit and humility 
can pretend his to be. The reason is the former 
pays a greater compliment in his condescension. 

The situation of a king, is so far from being 
miserable, as pedants term it ; that, if a person have 
magnanimity, it is the happiest I know ; as he has 
assuredly the most opportunities of distinguishing 
merit, and conferring obligations. 



AND MANNERS. \4S 

XL. 

*' Contemptx dominus splendidior rei." 

A man, a gentleman, evidently appears more con- 
siderable by seeming to despise his fortune, than a 
citizen and mechanic by his endeavours to magnify it. 

XLI. 

What man of sense, for the benefit of coal-mines, 
would be plagued with colliers conversation ? 

XLII. 
Modesty makes large amends for the pain it gives 
the persons who labour under it, by the prejudice it 
affords every worthy person in their favour. 

XLIII. 

Third thoughts often coincide with the -first, and 
are generally the best grounded. We first relish na- 
ture and the country ; then artificial amusements and 
the city ; then become impatient to retire to the coun- 
try again. 

XLIV. 

While we labour to subdue our passions, we should 
take care not to extinguish them. Subduing our 
passions, is disengaging ourselves from the world ; 
to which however, whilst we reside in it, we must 
always bear relation ; and we may detach ourselves 
to such a degree as to pass an useless and insipid 
life, which we were not meant to do. Our existence 
here is at least one part of a system. 

A man has generally the good or ill qualities which 
he attributes to mankind. 



144 ESSAYS ON MEN 

XLV. 

Anger and the thirst of revenge are a khid of fe- 
ver. Fighting and law-suits, bleeding ; at least, an 
evacuation. The latter occasions a dissipation of 
money ; the former of those fiery spirits which cause 
a preternatural fermentation. 

XLVI. 

Were a man of pleasure to arrive at the full ex- 
tent of his several wishes, he must immediately feel 
himself miserable. It is one species of despair to 
have no room to hope for any addition to one's hap- 
piness. 

His following wish must then be to wish he had 
some fresh object for his wishes. A strong argument 
that our minds and bodies were both meant to be for 
ever active. 

XLVIT. 

I have seen one evil underneath the sun, which 
gives me particular mortification. 

The reserve or shyness of men of sense generally 
confines them to a small acquaintance ; and they find 
numbers their avowed enemies,the similarity of whose 
tastes, had fortune brought them once acquainted, 
would have rendered them their fondest friends. 

XLVIII. 
A mere relator of matters of fact, is fit only for 
an evidence in a court of justice. 

XLTX. 

If a man be of superior dignity to a woman, a 
woman, is surely as much superior to a man that is 
effeminated. Lily's rule in the grammar has well 
enough adjusted this subordination. " The mascju- 



AND MANNERS. I45 

line is more worthy than the feminine, and the femi- 
nine more worthy than the neuter." 

L. 

A gentleman of fortune Avill be often complaining 
of taxes ; that his estate is inconsiderable ; that he 
can never make so much of it as the world is ready 
to imagine. A mere citizen, on the other hand, is 
always aiming to shew his riches; says that' he em- 
ploys so many hands; he keeps his wife a chaise 
and one ; and talks much of his Chinese ornaments 
at his paltry cake-house in the country. They both 
aim at praise, but of a very distinct kind. Now, 
supposing the cit worth as much in money as the 
other is in land, the gentleman surely' cijuses the 
better method of ostentation, who considers himself 
as somewhat superior to his fortune, than he who 
seems to look up at his fortune, and consequently 
sets himself beneath it. 

LI. 

The only kind of revenge which a man of sense 
need take upon a scoundrel, is by a series of worthy 
behaviour, to force him to admire and esteem his en- 
emy, and yet irritate his animosity, by declining a 
reconciliation. As Sir John Falstaff might say, 
" turning even quarrels to commodity." 

LII. 

It is possible, by means of glue, to connect two 
pieces of wood together ; by a powerful cement, to 
join marble ; by the mediation of a priest, to unite 
a man and woman ; but of all associations the most 
effectual is betwixt an idiot and a knave. They be- 
come in a manner incorporate. The former seems 
SQ framed to admire and idolize the latter, tjiiat the 
latter may seize and devour him as his proper prey. 

N 



146 ESSAYS ON MEN 

LIII. 

The same degree of penetration that shews you 
another in the wrong, shews him also, in respect to 
that instance, your inferior : hence the observation, 
and the real fact, that people of clear heads are what 
the world calls opinionated. 

LIV. 

There is none can baiRe men of sense, but fools, 
on whom they can make no impression. 

LV. 

The regard one shews economy, is like that we 
shew an old aunt who is to leave us something- at 
last. -Our behaviour on this account is as much con- 
strained as that 

" Of one well studied in a sad ostent 

♦* To please his granam." SHAKsrEAUE. 

LVI. 

Fashion is a great restraint upon your persons of 
taste and fancy ; who would otherwise, in the most 
triHing instances, be able to distinguish themselves 
from the vulgar. 

LVII. 

A writer who pretends to polish the human under- 
standing, may beg by the side of Rutter's chariot 
who sells a pov/der for the teeth. 

I.VIII. 

The difference there is betwixt honour and hones- 
ty, seems to be chiefly the motive. The mere ho- 
nest man does that from duty, which the man of ho- 
nour does for the sake of character. 



AND MANNERS. UT 

LIX. 

The Proverb ought to. run, "a fool and his words 
are soon parted ; a man of genius and his money." 

LX. 

A man of wit, genius, learning, is apt to think it 
f^oi'-iewhat hard, that men of no M'it, no genius, no 
learning, should have a greater share of wealth and 
honours ; not considering that their own accomplish- 
ment ought to be reckoned to them as their equiva- 
lent. It is no reason that a person worth five thou- 
sand pounds, should on that account have a claim to 
twenty. 

LXI. 

A wife ought in reality to love her husband above 
all the world ; but this preference I think should, in 
point of politeness, be concealed. The reason is, 
that it is disgusting to see an amiable woman mo- 
noplized ;' audit is easy by proper management to 
wave (all I contend for) the appearance. 

LXI I. 

There are some wounds given to reputation that 
are like the wounds of an envenomed arrow ; where 
we irritate and enlarge the orifice while w^e extract 
the bearded weapon ; yet cannot the cure be complet- 
ed otherwise. 

LXIII. 

Amongst all the vain-glorious professors of humili- 
ty, you find none that will not discover hov-/ much 
they envy a shining character : and this either by 
censuring it themselves, or shewing a satisfaction in 
such as do. Now there is this advantage at least ari- 
sing from ambition, that it disposes one to disregard 
a thousand instances of middling grandeur ; and re- 



148 ESSAYS ON MEN 

duces one's emulanon to the narroAv circle of a few 
that blaze. It is hence a convenient disposition in a 
country place, where one is encompassed with such 
as are merely richer, keep fine horses, a table, foot- 
men ; make a decent figure as rural esquires ; yet, 
after all.; discover no more than an every-day ple- 
beian character. These a person of little ambition 
might envy ; but another of a more extensive one 
may, in any kind of circumstances, disregard. 

LXIV. 

It is with some men as with some horses : what is 
esteemed spirit in them, proceeds from fear. This 
was undoubtedly the source of that seeming spirit 
discovered by Tully in regard to his antagonist M. 
Antony. He knew he must destroy him, or be de- 
stroyed himself. 

LXV. 

The same qualities, joined with virtue, often fur- 
nish out a great man, which, united with a different 
principle, furnish out an highwayman ; I mean cour- 
age and strong passions. And they may both join 
in the same expression, though with a meaning some- 
what varied.... 

*' Tentavida via est, qua me quoque possum 
•« ToUere hunio." 

i. e. " Be promoted or be hanged." 

LXVI. 

True Honour is to honesty, what the court of Chan- 
cery is to common law. 

LXVII. 

Misers, as death approaches, are heaping up a chest 
of reasons to stand in more awe of him. 



AND MANNERS. 149 

LXVIII. 

A man sooner finds out his own foibles in a stran- 
ger, than any other foibles. 

LXIX. 

It is favourable enough on the side of learning, 
that if an historian mentions a good author, it does 
not seem absurd to style h;m a great man : whereas 
the same phrase would not be allowed to a mere il- 
literate nobleman. 

LXX. 

It is less wonderful to see a wretched man com- 
mence an hero, than an happy one. 

LXXI. 

An high-spirit has often very different and even 
contrary effects. It sometimes operates no otherwise 
than like the " vis inertix ;" at others it induces men 
to bustle and make their part good among their su- 
periors. As Mr. Pope says, 

" Some plunge in business, others shave their crowns." 

It is by no means less forcible, when it withdraws 
a man from the company of those with whom he can- 
not converse on equal terms ; it leads him into soli- 
tude, that, if he cannot appear their equal, he may 
at least conceal his inferiority. It is sullen, obsti- 
nate, disdainful, haughty, in no less a degree than 
the other ; but is, perhaps, more genteel, and less 
citizen-like. Sometimes the other succeeds, and 
then it is esteemed preferable ; but in case it fail, it 
not only exposes a person's meanness, but his impa- 
tience undei'it; both of which the reserved spirit is 
able to disguise. ...but then it stands no chance of re- 
moving. " Pudor malus ulcera eclat." 
N 2 



150 ESSAYS ON MEN 

LXXII. 

Every single instance of a friend's insincerity en- 
creases our dependence on the efficacy of the money. 
It makes one covet what produces an external respect, 
when one is disappointed of that which is internal and 
sincere. This, perhaps, with decaying passions, con- 
tributes to render age covetous. 

LXXIII. 

When physicians write of diseases, the prognos- 
tics and the diagnostics, the symptoms and the pa- 
roxysms, they give one fatal apprehensions for every 
ache about us. When they come to treat of medi- 
cines and applications, you seem to have no other dif-^ 
ficulty but to decide by which means you would re- 
cover. In short, to give the preference between a 

linctus and an apozem. 

» 

LXXIV. 

One should no more trust to the skill of most apothe- 
caries, than one would ask the opinionof their pestle 
and mortar ; yet both are useful in their way. 

LXXV. 

I believe there was never so reserved asolitary,but 
felt some degree of pleasure at the first glimpse of 
an human figure. The soul, however, unconscious 
of its social bias in a crowd, will in solitude feel some 
attraction towards the first person that we meet. 

LXXVI. 

In courts, the motion of the body is easy, and those 
of the soul constrained: in the country, the gestures 
of the body are constrained, and those of the soul su- 
pine and careless. 



AND MANNERS. 151 



LXXVII. 



One may easily enough guard against ambition till 
five and twenty It is not ambition's day. 

LXXVIII. 

It should seem that indolence itself would incline a 
person to be honest ; as it requires infinitely greater 
pains and contrivance to be a knave. 

LXXIX. 

Perhaps rusticS; boors, and esquires, make a prin- 
cipal figure in the country, as inanimates are always 
allowed to be the chief figures in a landscape. 

LXXX. 

Titles make a greater distinction than is almost 
tolerable to a British spirit. They almost vary the 
species ; yet as they are oftentimes conferred, seem 
not so much the reward, as the substitutes of merit. 

LXXXI. 

What numbers live to the age of fifty or sixty years, 
yet, if estimated by their merit, are not worth the price 
of a chick the moment it is hatched. 

LXXXII. 

A liar begins with making falsehood appear like 
truth, and ends with making truth itself appear like 
falsehood. 

LXXXIII. 

Fools are very often found united in the strictest 
intimacies, as the lighter kinds of woods are the most 
closely glewed together. 



152 ESSAYS ON MEN 

LXXXIV. 

Persons of great delicacy should know the certain- 
ty of the following truth. There are abundance of 
cases which occasion suspense, in which, whatever 
they determine, they will repent of their determina- 
tion ; and this through a propensity of human nature 
to fancy happiness in those schemes, which it does 
not pursue. 

LXXXV. 

High-spirit in a man, is like a sword ; which, 
though worn to annoy his enemies, yet is often trou- 
blesome in a less degree to his friends. He can 
hardly wear it so inoffensively, but it is apt to in- 
commode one or other of the company. It is more 
properly a loaded pistol, which accident alone may 
fire,, and kill one. 

LXXXVI. 

A miser, if honest, can be only honest bare weight. 

Avarice is the most opposite of all characters to 
that of God Almighty ; whose alone it is, to give 
and not receive. 

A miser grows rich by seeming poor ; an extrava- 
gant man grows poor by seeming rich. 

A grashopper is, perhaps, the best device for 
coat armour of those who v/oiild be thought abori- 
gines ; agreeable to the Athenian use of them. 

Immoderate assurance Is perfect licentiousness. 

V7hen a person is so far engaged in a dispute as to 

wish to get the victory, he ought ever to desist 

The idea of conquest will so dazzle him, that it is 
hardly possible he should discern the truth. 

I have sometimes thought the mind so calculated, 
that a small degree of force may impel it to a cer- 
tain pitch of pleasure or of pain ; beyond which it 
will not pass, by any impetus whatsoever. 



AND MANNERS. lo3 

I doubt whether it be not true, that we hate those 
faults most in others which we are guilty of ourselves. 

A man of thorough sense scarce admires even any 
one ; but he must be an ideot that is the admirer of 
a fool. 

It may be prudent to give up the more trivial parts 
of character for the amusement of the invidious : as 
a man willingly relinquishes his silver to save his 
gold from an highwayman. Better be ridiculed for 
an untoward peruke, than be attacked on the score 
of morals, as one would be rather pulled by the hair, 
than stabbed to the heart. 

Virtue seems to be nothing more than a motion 
consonant to the system of things. Were a planet 
to fly from its orbit, it would represent a vicious man. 

It is difficult not to be angry at beings -wq know 
capable of acting otherwise than they do. One ought 
no more, if one reflects, to be angry at the stupidity 
of a man than of a horse, except it be vincible and 
voluntary ; and yet the practice is otherwise. 

People say, " Do not regard what he says, now he 
is in liquor." Perhaps it is the only time he ought 
to be regarded : " Aperit praecordia Liber." 

Patience is the Panacea; but where does it grow, 
or who can swallow it. 

Wits uniformly exclaim against fools, yet fools 
are their proper foil ; and it is from them alone they 
can learn what figure themselves make. Their be- 
haviour naturally falls in witji the generality, and 
furnishes a better mirror than that of artful people, 
who are sure enough to deceive you either on the 
favourable or the ill-natured side. ^ 

We say, he is a man'of sense who acknowledges 
the same truths that wq do ; that he is a man of taste 
who allows the same beauties. We consider him as 
a person of better sense and finer taste, who discerns 
more truths and more beauties in conjunction with 



154 ESSAYS ON MEN 

ourselves : but we allow neither appellation to the 
man who differs from us. 

We deal out our genuine esteem to our equals ; 
our affection for those beneath us ; and a reluctant 
sort of respect to those that are above us. 

Glory relaxes often and del)ilitates the mind ; cen- 
sure stimulates and contracts both to an extreme. 

Simple fame is, perhaps, the proper medium. 

Persons of new families do well to make magnifi- 
cent funerals, ,sumptuous v.'eddings, remarkable en- 
tertainments ; to exlubita number of servants in rich 
and ostentatious liveries ; and to take every public- 
occasion of imprinting on the mob an habitual no- 
tion of their superiority. For so is deference obtain- 
ed from that quarter : 

" Stupet in tiuilis &. iniaginibus." 

One scarce sees how it is possible for a country 
girl or a cou.ntry fellow to preserve their chastity. 
They have neither the philosophical pleasure of books, 
nor the luxurious pleasure of a table, nor the refined 
amusement of building, planting, drawing, or design- 
ing, to divert their imagination from an object to which 
they seem continually to stimulate it by provocative 
illusions. Add to this the health and vigour that are 
almost peculiar to them. 

I am afraid, there are many ladies who only ex- 
change the pleasures of incontinence for the pleasure 
they derive from censure. At least it is no injustice 
to conclude so, where^a person is extravagantly cen- 
sorious. 

Persons of judgment and understanding may be 
divided into two sorts. Tl^ose whose judgment is 
so extensive as to comprehend a great deal ; existen- 
ces, systems, universals : but as there are some eyes 
so constituted as to take in distant objects, yet be ex- 
celled by others in regard to objects minute or near; 
so there are other understandings better calculated 
for the examination of particular objects. 



AND MANNERS. 155 

The mind is at first an open field without partitions 
or enclosures. To make it turn to most account, it 
is very proper to divide and enclose. In other words, 
to sort our observations. 

Some men are called sagacious, merely on account 
of their avarice : whereas a child can clench its list the 
moment it is born. 

It is a point of prudence, when you converse with 
your inferior, to consider yourself as conversing with 
his inferior, with v/hom no doubt he may have the 
same connexion that you have with him : and to be 
upon your guard accordingly. 

How deplorable then is a person's condition, when 
his mind can only be supported by fiattery, and his 
constitution but by cordials I when the relief of his 
present complaint undermines its own efficacy, yet 
encreases the occasion for which it is used 1 Short 
is then the duration of our tranquillity, or of our lives. 

A man is not esteemed ill-natured for any excess 
of social affection ; or an indiscreet profusion of his 
fortune upon his neighbours, companions, or friends ; 
although the true measure of his affections is as much 
impaired by this, as by selfishness. 

If any one's curse can effect damnation, it is not 
that of the pope, but that of tlie poor. 

People of the finest and most lively genius have 
the greatest sensibility, of consequence the most lively 
passions ; the violence of which puts their conduct 
upon a footing with that of fools. Fools discern the 
weaknesses which they have in common with them- 
selves ; but are not sensible of their excellencies, to 
which they have no pretensions ; of course, always in- 
clined to dispute the superiority. 

Wit is the refractory pupil of judgment. 

Virtue should be considered as a part of taste (and 
perhaps it is so more in this age, than in any prece- 
ding one) and should as much avoid deceit or sinister 
meanings in discourse, as they would do puns, bad 
language, or false grammar. 



156 ESSAYS ON MEN 

Think, when you are enraged at any one, what 
would probably become your sentiments, should he 
die during the dispute. 

The man of a towering ambition, or a well-re,s:ulat- 
ed taste has fewer objects to envy or to covet than the 
grovellers. 

Refined sense to a person that is to converse alone 
with boors, is a manifest inconvenience. AsFalstaft' 
says (with some little variation) 

** Company, witty company, has been the ruin of me." 

If envious people Avere universally to ask themselves 
whether they would exchange their entire situitions 
with the per&ons envied (I mean their minds, passions, 
notions, as v.ell as their persons, fortunes, dignities, 
Sec. Sec.) I will presume the self-love common to hu- 
man nature would make them all prefer their own 
condition : 

"Quidstatis ? nolint....atqui licet esse beatis." 

. If this rule were applied, as it surely ought to be, 
it bids fair to prove an universal cure for envy : 

" Quanto quisque sibi pi Lira negaverit, 
" A Diis plura feret.".... Self-denial. 

A person, elevated one degree above the populace, 
assumes more airs of superiority than one that is rais- 
ed ten. The reason is somewhat obvious. His su- 
periority is more contestible. 

The character of a decent, well-behaved gentleman- 
like man seems more easily attainable by a person of 
no great parts or passions, than by one of greater 
genius and more volatility. It is there no misman- 
agement, for the former to be chiefly ambitious of it. 
When a man's capacity does not enable him to enter- 
tain or animate the company, it is the best he can do 
to render himself inoffensive, and to keep his teeth 



AND MANNERS. 157 

clean. But the person who has talents for discourse, 
and a passionate desire to enliven conversation, ought 
to have many improprieties excused, which in the 
other were unpardonable. A lady of good-nature 
would forgive the blunder of a country esquire, who, 
through zeal to serve her with a glass of claret, should 
involve his spurs in her Brussels apron. On thecon- 
tra.ry, the fop (who may in some sense use the words 
of Horace. 

*' Quod verum atque decens euro 8c rogo Sc 
«« omiiis in hoc sum") 

w^ould be entitled to no pardon for such unaccounta- 
ble misconduct. 

Man in general, maybe considered as a mechanic, 
and the formation of happiness as his business or em- 
ployment : Virtue, his repository or collection of in- 
struments ; the goods of fortune as his materials : in 
proportion as workmen, the instruments, and the ma- 
terials excel, the work will be executed in the great- 
er perfection. 

The silly censorious are the very " fel nature,'* 
*' the most bitter of all bitter things ;" from the hys- 
sop that grows upon the wall, to the satirist that pis- 
ses against it. 

I have known a sensible man of opinion that one 
should not be solicitous about a wife's understanding. 
A woman's sense was with him a phrase to express 
a degree of knowledge, which was likely to contribute 
mighty little to a husband's happiness. I cannot be 
of his opinion. I am convinced, that as judgment 
is the portion of our sex, so fancy and imagination 
are more eminently the lot of theirs. If so after hon- 
esty of heart, what is there we should so much re- 
quire ? A wife's beauty will soon decay, it is doubt- 
ful whether in reality first, or in our own opinion. 
Either of these is sufficient to pall the raptures of en- 
joyment. We are then to seek for something that 
O 



153 ESSAYS ON MEN 

will retain its novelty ; or, what is equivalent, will 
change its shape when her person palls hy its identi- 
ty. Fancy and genius bid fairest for this, which have 
as many shapes, as there can happen occasions to ex- 
ert them. Good-nature, I always suppose. The for- 
mer will be expedient to exhilarate and divert us ; the 
latter to preserve our mindsin a teinper to be divert- 
ed. 

I have known some attorn ies of reputable families, 
and whose ori^^inal dispositions seemed to have been 
open and humane. Yet can I scarce recollect one, 
in whom the gentleman, the christian, and even the 
man, was not swallowed up in the lawyer: they are 
not only the greatest tyrants, but the greatest pedants 
of all mankind. 

Reconciliation is the tenderest part either of friend- 
ship or of love ; the latter more especially, in which 
the Boul is more remarkably softened. Were a per- 
son to make use of art in procuring the afiection of 
his mistress, it were, perhaps, his most effectual meth- 
ed to dontrive a slight estrangement, and then, as it 
vv^erc imperceptibly, bring on a reconciliation. The 
soul here discovers a kind of elasticity ; and, being 
forced back, returns with an additional violence. 

Virtue may be considered as the only means of dis- 
pensing happiness in proper portions to every moment 
of our time. 

To judge whether one has sufficient pleasure to 
render tl.c continuation of life agreeable, it is not 
enough to say, Would you die ? Take away first, the 
hope of better scenes in this life, the fears of worse 
in another, and the bodily pain of dying. 

The fear of death seems as natural, as the sensa- 
tion of lust or of hunger : the first and last, for the 
preservation of the individual ; the other, for the 
continuation of the species. 

It seems obvious that God, who created the world, 
intends the happiness and perfecticn of the system 



AND MANNERS. lo9 

he created. To effect the bappiness of the Avhole, 
self-love, in its degree, is as requisite as social; for 
I am myself a part of that whole, as well as another. 
The difficulty of ascertaining what is virtue, lies in 
proportioning the degrees of self-love and social. 
*' Proximus sum egomet mihi."...." Tunica pallio 
proprior."....', Charity begins at home." It is so. 
It ought to be so; nor is there any inconvenience 
arises to the public, because it is general. Were 
this away, the individual must soon perish, and con- 
sequently the whole body. A man has every moment 
occasion to exert his self-love for the sake of self- 
preservation ; consequently this ought to be stronger, 
in order to keep him upon his guard. A centinel's 
attention should be greater than that of a soldier on 
a review. 

The social, thoiigh alike constant, is not equally 
intense ; because the selfish, being universal, ren- 
ders the social less essential to the well-being of one's 
neighbour. In short, the self-love and the social 
ought to bear such proportion as we find they gen- 
erally do. If the selfish passion of the rest prepon- 
derate, it would be seli-destructive in a few indivi- 
duals to be over-socially disposed. If the social one 
prevails generally, to be of remarkable selfishness 
must obstruct the good of society. 

Many feel a superfluous uneasiness for want of due 
attention to the following truth. 

We are oftentimes in suspense betwixt the choice 
of different pursuits. We chuse one at last doubt- 
ingly, and with an unconquered hankering after the 
other. We find the scheme, which we have chosen, 

answer our expectations but indifferently Most 

worldly projects will. W^e, therefore, repent of our 
choice, and immediately fancy happiness in the path.s 
which we decline ; and this heightens our uneasiness. 
We might at least escape the aggravation of it. It 
is not improbable, we had been more unhappy, but 



160 ESSAYS ON MEN 

extremely probable, we had not been less so, had 
we made a different decision. This, however re- 
lates to schemes that are neither virtuous nor vicious. 

Happy doge (says a certain splenetic) our footmen 
and the populace ! Farewell, says Esop, in Van- 
brug'h, whom I both envy and despise ! The servant 
meets with hundreds whose conversation can amuse 
him, for one that is the least qualified to be a com- 
panion for his master. 

" A person cannot eat his cake and have it," is, 
as Lord Shaftesbury observes, a proper answer to many 
splenetic people*. But what imports it to be in 
the possession of a cake that you do not eat ? If then 

the cake be made to be eaten, says lady L , 

better eat it when you are most hungry, "^oor wo- 
man ! she seems to have acted by this maxim, but 
yet could not avoid crying for the cake she had eaten. 

You should calculate your appearance for the place 
v/hcrc you reside. One would rather be a very 
Knight in the country than his Honour Mr. Such- 
a-one. 

The most consummate selfishness would incline a 
person at his death, to dispose of his effects agreea- 
bly to duty ; that he may secure an interest in the 
world to which he is going. 

A justice and his clerk is now little more than a 
blind man and his dog. The profound ignorance of 
the former, together with the canine impudence and 
rapacity of the latter, will but rarely be found 
wanting to vindicate the comparison. The principal 
part of the similitude will appear obvious to every 
one ; I mean tliat the justice is as much dependent 
on his clerk for superior insight and implicit guidance, 
as the blind fellow on his cur that leads him in a 
string. Add to this, that the offer of a crust will se- 
duce the comluctors of either to drag their masters 
into a kennel. 

* Complainants. 



AND MANNERS. 161 

To remark the different figure made by different 
persons, under the same circumstances of fortune 1 
Two friends of mine upon a journey had so contriv- 
ed as to reduce their finances to a single sixpence 
each. The one with the genteel and liberal air of 
abundance, gave his to a black-shoe-boy, who wish- 
ed his honour a thousand blessings; the other, hav- 
ing lodged a fortnight with a nobleman that was his 
patron, offered his to the butler, as an instance of 
his gratitude, who with difficulty forebore to curse 
him to his face. 

A glass or two of wine extraordinary only raises 
a valetudinarian to that warmth of social affection, 
which had naturally been his lot, in a better state of 
health. 

Deference is the most complicate, the most indi- 
rect, and the most elegant of all compliments. 

Be cautious not to consider a person as your supe- 
rior, merely because he is your superior in the point 
of assurance. This has often depressed the spirit of 
a person of desert and diffidence. 

A proper assurance, and competent fortune, are 
essential to liberty. 

Taste is pursued at a less expence than fashion. 

Our time in towns seems short to pass, and long 
to reflect upon; in the country, the reverse. 

Deference, before company, is the genteelestkind 
of flattery. The flattery of epistles affects one less, 
as they cannot be shewn without an appearance of 
vanity. Flattery of the verbal kind is gross. In 
short, applause is of too coarse a nature to be swal- 
lowed in the gross. ...though the extract or tincture 
be ever so agreeable. 

When a person, for a splendid servitude, foregoes 
anhumbleindependency, it may be called an advance- 
ment, if you please : but it appears to me an ad- 
vancement from the pit to the gallery. Liberty is a 
more invigorating cordial than tokay. 
02 



162 ESSAYS ON MEN 

Though punctilios are trifling, they maybe as im- 
portant as the frienclsliip of some persons that regard 
them. ...Indeed it is almost an universal practice to 
rail at punctilio; and it seems in some measure a 
consequence of our attachment to French fashions. 
However, it is extremely obvious, that punctilio nev- 
er caused half the quarrels, that have risen from the 
freedom of behaviour, which is its opposite extreme. 
Were all men rational and civilized, the use of ce- 
remony would be superfluous : but as the case is, it 
at least fiixes some bounds to the encroachments of 
eccentric people, who, under the denomination of 
freedom, might demand the privilege of breaking 
your head. 

There seem near as many people that want pas- 
s-ion as want reason. 

The world would be more happy, if persons gave 
up more time to an intercourse of frjeiidship. But 
money engrosses all our deference ; andfwe scarce en- 
joy a social hour, because we think it unjustly stolen 
from the main business of our lives. 

The state of man is not unlike that of a fish hook- 
ed by an angler. Death allows us a little line. We 
flounce, and sport, and vary our situation : but when 
we would extend our schemes, we discover our con- 
finement, checked and linated by a superior hand, 
who drags us from our element whensoever he 
pleases. 

The vulgar trace your faults ; those you have in 
common with themselves : but they have no idea of 
your excellencies, to which they have no pretensions. 

A person is something taller by holding up his 
head. 

A man of sense can be adequately esteemed by 
none other than a man of sense : a fool by none but 
a foel. We ought to act upon this principle. 

How melancholy is it to travel, late and fatigued, 
upon any ambitious project on a winter's niQ;ht j and 



AND MANNERS. 



163 



observe the lights of cottages where all the unambi- 
tious people are warm and happy, or at rest in their 

beds. Some of them says W , as wretched as 

princes, for aught we know to the contrary ? 

It is generally a principle of indolence that makes 
one so disgusted with an artful character. We hate 
the confinement of standing centinels, in our own 
defence. 

To behave with complaisance, where one foresees 
one must needs quarrel, is like eating before a vomit. 

Some persons may \vith justice boast, that they 
knew as much as others when they were but ten 
years old : and that their present knowledge com- 
prehends after the manner that a larger trunk con- 
tains the smaller ones it encloses. 

It is possible to discover in some faces the features 
nature intended, had she not been some-how thwart- 
ed in her operations. Is it not easy to remark the 
same distortion in some minds ? There is a phrase 
pretty frequent amongst the vulgar, and which they 
apply to absolute fools. ...That they have had a rock 

too much in their cradles With me, it is a most 

expressive idiom to describe a dislocated understand- 
ing : an understanding, for instance, which, like a 
watch, discovers a multitude of such parts, as appear 
obviously intended to belong to a system of the 
greatest perfection ; yet which, by some unlucky 
jumble, falls infinitely short of it. 

Is it not the wound our pride sustains by being 
deceived, that makes us more averse to hypocrites, 
than to the most audacious and barefaced villain ? 
Yet it seems as much a piece of justice to. commend 
a man for talking more honestly than he acts, as it 
is to blame a man for acting more dishonestly than 
he talks. The sum of the whole, however, is that 
the one adds to other crimes by his deceit, and the 
other by his impudence. 



164 ESSAYS ON MEN 

A fool can neither eat, nor drink, nor stand, nor 
walk ; nor, in short, laugh, nor cry, nor take snuff, 
like a man of sense. How obvious the distinction ! 

Independency may be found in comparative, as 
well as absolute abundance : I mean where a person 
contracts his desires within the limits of his fortune. 

There are very few persons w'ho do not lose some- 
thing of their esteem for you, upon your approach 
to familiarity. 

The silly excuse that is often drawn from want 
of time to correspond, becomes no one besides a cob- 
ler with ten or a dozen children dependent on a tatch- 
ing end. 

One, perhaps, ought to make funerals as sump- 
tuous as possible, or as private : either by obscurity 
to elude, or by splendor to employ, the attention, 
that it may not be engaged by the most shocking 
circumstance of our humanity. 

It happens a little unluckily, that the persons who 
have the most intimate contempt of money, are the 
same that have tlie strongest appetites for the plea- 
sures it produces. 

We are apt to look for those virtues in the cha- 
racters of noblemen, that are but rarely to be found 
any where, except in the preambles to their patents. 
Some shining. exceptions may be made to this rule : 
In general we may consider their appearance w ith us 
in public, as one does our wearing apparel. " Which 
lord do you wear to day ? Why I did think to wear 
my lord **** ; but, as there will be little company 
in the Mall, I will e'en content myself to \vear the 
same noble peer I wore yesterday." 

The worst inconvenience of a small fortune is that 
it will not admit of inadvertency. Inadvertency, 
however, ought to be placed at the head of most 
men's yearly accounts, and a sum as regularly allot- 
ted to it as to any other article. 



AND MANNERS. 165 

It is with our judgments, as with our eyes. Some 
can see objects at a greater distance more distinctly, 
at the same time less distinctly than others the ob- 
jects that are near them. 

Notwithstanding the airs men give themselves, I 
believe no one sees family to more advantage, than 
the persons that have no share in it. 

How important is the eye to the appearance of an 
human face ! the chief index of temper, understand- 
ing, health, and love ! What prodigious influence 
mast the same misfortunes have on some persons be- 
yond others 1 as the loss of an eye to a mere insolent 
beauty without the least philosophy to support her- 
self. 

The person least reserved in his censure of ano- 
ther's excess in equipage, is commonly the person 
who would exhibit the same if it had been within his 
power ; the source of both being a disregard to de- 
corum. Likewise he that violently arraigns, or fond- 
ly indulges it, agree in considering it a little too se- 
riously. 

Amid the most mercenary ages, it is but a secon- 
dary sort of admiration that is bestowed upon mag- 
nificence. 

An order of beauties, as of knights, with a style 
appropriated to them (as for instance. To the Right 
Beautiful Lady Such-a-one) would have as good a 
foundation as any other class, but would, at the same 
time, be the most invidious of any order that was 
ever instituted. 

The first maxim a child is taught, is that 

*' Learning is better than house and land ;'* 

but how little is its influence as he grows up to ma- 
turity ! 

There is somewhat very astonishing in the record 
of our most celebrated victories : I mean, the small 



166 ESSAYS ON MEN 

number of the conquerors killed in proportion to the 
conquered. At Agincourt, it is said, were ten thou- 
sand, and fourteen thousand massacred. Livy's ac- 
counts of this sort are- so astonishing, that one is apt 
to disbelieve the historian. ...All the explanation one 
can find is, that the gross slaughter is made when one 
side takes to flight. 

A person that is disposed to throw off all reserve 
before an inferior, should reflect, that he has ajso his 
inferiors, to whom he uiay be equally communica- 
tive. 

It is impossible for a man of sense to guard against 
the mortification that may be given him by fools, or 
hetercclite characters; because he cannot foresee them. 
A wit-would cannot afford to discard a frivolous con- 
ceit, though it tends to affront you : an old maid, a 
country put, or a college pedant, will ignorantly or 
"wilfully blunder upon such hints as much discompose 
you. 

A man that is solicitious about his health, or ap- 
prehensive of some acute disorder, should write a 
journal of his constitution, for the better instruction 
of his physician. 

Ghosts have no m-ore connexion with darkness, 
than the mystery of a barber with that of a surgeon ; 
yet we find they go together. Perhaps Nox and 
Chaos were their mythological parents. 

He makes a lady but a poor recompence who mar- 
ries her, because he has kept her company long af- 
ter his affection is estranged. Does he not rather 
encrease the injury ? 

Second thoughts oftentimes are the very worst of 
all thoughts, i'irst and third very often coincide. 
Indeed second thoughts are too frequently formed by 
the love of novelty, of shewing penetration, of dis- 
tinguishing ourselves from the mob, and have conse- 
quently less of simplicity, and more of afiVctation. 
This, hov/ ever, regards principally objects of taste 



AND MANNERS. 167 

and fancy. Third thoughts, at least, are here very- 
proper mediators. 

" Set a beggar on horse-back, and he'll ride," is a 
common proverb and a real truth. The *' novus 
homo" is an *' inexpertus homo," and consequently- 
must purchase finery, before he kno'.vs the emptiness 
of it experimentally. The established gentleman 
disregards it, through habit and familiarity. 

The foppery of love-verses, when a person is ill 
and indisposed, is perfect ipecacuanha. 

Antii^uity of fanjily, and distinctions of gentry, 
have, perhaps, less weightin this age, than they had 
ever heretofore : the bend dexter or sinister ; the 
chief, the canton, or the cheveron, are greatly out 
of date. The heralds are at length discovered to 
have no legal authority. Spain, indeed, continues 
to preserve the distinction, and is poor. France (by 
their dispute about trading nobility) seems inclined 
to shake it off. • Who now looks with veneration on 
thfi ante-diluvian pedigree of a Welchman ? Proper- 
ty either is, or is sure to purchase distinction, let the 
king at arms, or the old maiden aunt, preach as long 
as either pleases. It is so ; perhaps it ought to be 
so. All honours should lie open, all encouragement 
be allowed to the members of trade in a trading na- 
tion : and as the nobility find it very expedient to 
partake of their profits so that they, in return, should 
obtain a share in the others honours. One would, 
however, wish the acquisition of learning was as sure 
a road to dignity, as that of riches. 



I6i ESSAYS ON MEN 



O^ BOOKS AND V/RIfERS, 



IT is often asserted, by pretenders to singular 
penetration, that the assistance fancy is supposed to 
draw from wine, is merely imaginary and chimeri- 
cal : that all which the poets have urged on this 
head is absolute rant and enthusiasm ; and has no 
foundation in truth or nature. I am inclined to think 
otherwise. Judg-ment, I readily allow, derives no 
benefit from the noblest cordial.* But persons of a 
phlegmatic constitution have those excellencies often 
suppressed, of which their imagination is truly capa- 
ble, by reason of a lentor, which wine may naturally 
remove. It raises low spirits to a pitch necessary 
for the exertion of fancy. It confutes the " Non est 
tanti," so frequently a maxim with speculative per- 
sons. It quickens that ambition, or that social bias, 
which makes a person wish to shine, or to plea^. 
Ask what tradition says of Mr. Addison's conversa- 
tion. But instances in point of conversation come 
within every one's observance. Why then may it 
not be allowed to produce the same effects in writing ? 

The affected phrases I hate most, are those on 
which your half-wits found their reputation. Such 
as " pretty trifler, fair plaintiff, lovely architect," &c. 

Doctor Young has a surprising knack of bringing 
thoughts from a distance, from their lurking places, 
in a moment's time. 

There is nothing so disagreeable in works of hu- 
mour as an insipid, unsupported, vivacity ; the very 
husks of drollery ; bottled small-beer ; a man out-ri- 
ding his horse ; lewdness and impotence ; a fiery ac- 
tor in a phlegmatic scene ; an illiterate and stupid 
preacher discoursing upon urim and thummim, and 
beating the pulpit cushion in such amanner, as though 
he would make the dust and the truth fly out of it at 



AND MANNERS. 16^ 

An editor, or a translator, collects the merits of dif- 
ferent writers ; and forming all into a wreath, bestows 
It on his author's tomb. The thunder of Demost- 
henes, the weight of Tally, the judgment of Taci- 
tus, the elegance ofLivy,the subliaiity of Homer, the 
majesty of Virgil, the v/it of Ovid, the propriety of 
Horace, the accuracy of Terence, the brevity of Phx- 
drus, and the poignancy of Juvenal (with every name 
of note he can possibly recal to mind) are given to 
some ancient scribbler, in whom affectation and the 
love of novelty disposes him to find out beauties. 

Humour and Vanbrugh against wit and Congreve. 

The vacant skull of a pedant generally furnishes 
out a throne and temple for vanity. 

May not the custom of scraping when we bow, be 
derived from the ancient custom of throwing their 
shoes backwards off their feet ? 

" A bird in the air shall carry the tale, and that 
which hath wings shall tell the matter." Such is also 
tiie present phrase...." A little bird told it me"....says 
nurse. ...The preference which some give to Virgil 
before Homer is often owing to complexion : some 
are more formed to enjoy the grand ; and others, the 
beautiful. But as for invention and sublimity, the 
most shining qualities of imagination, there is surely 

no comparison between them Yet I enjoy Virgil 

more. 

Agreeable ideas rise, in proportion as they ' are 
drawn from inanimates, from vegetables, from ani- 
mals, and from human creatures. 

One reason why the sound is sometimes an echo- 
to the s^nse,is that the pleasantest objects have often 
the most harmonious names annexed to them. 

A man of a merely argumentative cast will read, 
poetry as prose ; will only regard the quantum it con- 
tains of solid reasoning: just as a clown attacks a de- 
sert, considering it as so much victuals, and regardless 
of those lively or emblematical decorations, which the 
P 



170 ESSAYS ON MEN 

cook, for many sleepless nights, has endeavoured to 
bestow upon it. 

Notwithstanding all that Rousseau has advanced so 
very ingeniously upon plays and players, their pro- 
fession is, like that of a painter, one of the imita- 
tive arts, whose means are pleasure, and whose end 
is virtue. They both alike, for a subsistence, submit 
themselves to public opinion : and the dishonour that 
has attended the last profession, seems not easily ac- 
countable. 

As there are evidently words in English poetry 
that have all the force of a dactyle, and, if properly 
inserted, have no small beauty on that account, it 
seems absurd to contract, or print them otherwise 
than at length. 

*' The loose wall tottering o'er the trembling shade." 

Ogilvy's Day of Judgment. 

« Trembling" has also the force of a dactyle in a less 
degree. ...but cannot be written otherwise. 

I have sometimes thought Virgil so remarkably 
musical, that were his lines read to a musician, whol- 
ly ignorant of the language, by a person of capaci- 
ty to give each word its proper accent, he would not 
fail to distinguish in it all the graces of harmony. 

I think, I can observe a peculiar beauty in the ad- 
dition of a short syllable, at the end of a blank 
verse : I mean, however, in blank dialogue. • In 
other poetry it is as sure to flatten ; which may be 
discerned in Prior's translation of Callimachus, viz. 
...." the holy victim. ...Dictxan, hearst thou. ...Birth, 
great Rhea....Inferior reptile...." Sec for the transla- 
tion abounds with them ; and is rendered by that 
means prosaic. 

The case is only, prose being an imitation of com- 
mon life, the nature of an ode requires that it should 
be lifted some degrees higher. 



AND MANNERS. 



171 



But in dialogue, the language ought never to leave 
nature the least ought of sight ; and especially m here 
pity is to be produced, it appears to receive an ad- 
vantage from the melancholy flow this syllable occa- 
sions. Let me produce a few instances from Ot- 
way's tragedy of the Unhappy Marriage ; and, in or- 
der to form a judgment, let the reader substitute a 
word of equal import, but of a syllable less, in the 
place of the instances I produce (some instances ar# 
numberless, where they familiarize and give an eas« 
to dialogue. 



Sure my ill fate's upon mc' 



...." Why was I not laid in my peaceful grave, 
With my poor parents, and at rest as they are? 

...." 1 never see you now....you have been kinder." 

...." Why was I made with all my sex's softness. 
Yet want the cunning to conceal its follies ? 
I'll see Castalio....tax him with his falsehood." 

" Should you charge rough, 

I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing." 

....«« When thou art from me, every place is desert." 

" Surely Paradise is round me, 

And every sense is full of thy perfection. 

To hear thee speak might calm a madman's frenzy. 

'Till by attention, he forgot his sorrows." 

....«« 'Till good men wish him dead.. ..or I offend him." 

...." And hang upon you like a drowning creature." 

,..." Cropt this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness." 

...." Give me Chamont, and let the «vorld forsake mc.' 

" I've drank an healing draught 

For all my cares, and never more shall wrong thee." 



J73 Essays on men 

...." When I'm laid low in the cold grave forgotten, 
May you be happy in a fairer bride, 
But none can ever love you, like Monimia." 

I should imagine, that, in some or most of these 
examples, a particular degree of tenderness is owing 
o the supernumerary syllable ; yet it requires a nice 
ear for the disposition of it (for it must not be uni- 
versal); and, with this, may give at once an harmo- 
nious tiow, a natural ease, an energy, tenderness, and 
variety to the language. 

A man of dry sound judgment attends to the truth 
of the proposition ;....a man of ear and sensibility to 
the music of the versification ;....a man of a well re- 
gulated taste finds the former more deeply imprinted 
on him, by the judicious management of the latter. 
It seems to me, th^t what are called notes at. the 
bottom of pages (as well as parenthesis in \yritmg) 
might be generally avoided, without injuring the 
thread of a discourse. It is true, it might require 
some address to interweave them gracefully into the 
text ; but how much more agreeable would be the 
effect, than to interrupt the reader by such frequent 
avocations ? How much more gracetul to play a tune 
upon one set of keys, with varied stops, than to seek 
the same variety by an awkward motion from one set 
to another ? 

It bears a little hard upon our candour, that " to 
take to pieces" in our language signifies the same as 
<* to expose ;" and " to expose" has a signification, 
which good nature can as little allow, as can the laws 
of etymology. 

The ordinary letters from friend to friend seem ca- 
pable of receiving a better turn, than mere compli- 
ment, frivolous intelligence, or professions of friend- 
ship continually repeated. The es.ablished maxim 
lo correspond with ease, has almost excluded every 
useful subject. But may not excess of negligence 



AND MANNERS. 173 

discover affectation, as well as its opposite extreme ? 
There are many degrees of intermediate solidity be- 
tween a Westphalia ham and a whip syllabub. 

I am astonished to remark the defect of ear, which 
some tolerable harmonious poets discover in their 
Alexandrines. It seems wonderful that an error so 
obvious, and so very disgustful to a nice ear, should 
occur so frequently as the following : 

** What seraph e'er could preach 
So choice a lecture as his wond'rous virtue's lore?" 

The pause being after the sixth syllable, it is plain 
the whole emphasis of pronunciation is thrown upon 
the particle as. It seems most amazing to me, that 
this should be so common a blunder. 

" Simplex munditiis" has been esteemed univer- 
sally to be a phrase at once very expressive, and of 
very difficult interpretation : at least, not very capa- 
ble to be explained without circumlocution. What 
objection can we make to that single word " elegant," 
which excludes the glare and multiplicity of orna- 
ments on one side, as much as it does dirt and rusti- 
city on the other ? 

The French use the word "naive" in such a sense 
as to be explained by no English word ; unless we 
will submit to restrain ourselves in the application of 
the word " sentimental." It means the language of 
passion or the heart, in opposition to the language of 
reflection and the head. 

The most frequent mistake that is made, seems to 
be that of the means for the end : thus riches for hap- 
piness, and thus learning for sense. The former of 
these is hourly observable : and as to the latter, me- 
thinks, this age affords frequent and surprising in- 
stances. 

It is with real concern, that I observe many per- 
sons of true poetical genius endeavouring to quench 

P 2 



V74 -ESSAYS ON MEN 

their native fire, that they may exhibit learning with- 
out a single spark of it. Nor is it uncommon to see 
an author translate a book, when with half the pains 
he could write a better : but the translation favours 
more of learning ; and gives room for notes which 
exhibit more. 

Learning, like money, may be of so base a coin, 
as to be utterly void of use ; or, if sterling, may re- 
quire good management, to make it serve the pur- 
poses of sense or happiness. 

When a nobleman has once conferred any great fa- 
vour on his inferior, he ought thenceforth to consider, 
that his requests, his advice, and even his intimations, 
become commands : and to propose matters with the 
utmost tenderness. The person whom he obliges has 
otherwise lost his freedom : 

*' Hac ego si compellar immagine, cuncta resigno : 
Nee somnum plebis laudo satur altilium ; nee 
Otia divitiis Arabum Uberrima muto." 

The amiable and the severe, Mr. Burke's sublime 
and beautiful, by different proportions, are mixed in 
every character. Accordingly, as either is predomi- 
nant, men imprint the passions of love or fear. The 
best punch depends on a proper mixtureof sugar and 
lemon. 



AND MANNERS. 175 



ON MEN AND MANNERS, 



THERE are many persons acquire to them- 
selves a character of insincerity) from what is in 
truth mere inconstancy. And there are persons of 
warm, but changeable passions ; perhaps the sincer- 
est of any in the very instant they make profession, 
but the very least to be depended on through the short 
duration of all extremes. It has often puzzled me, 
on this account, to ascertain the character of Lady 
Luxborough*; yet whatever were her principles, I 
esteem Lord Bolingbroke's to have been the same. 
She seemed in all respects the female Lord Boling- 
broke. 

The principal, if not the only, difference betwixt 
honesty and honour, seems to lie in their different 
motives : the object of the latter being reputation ; 
and of the former, duty. 

It is the greatest comfort to the poor, whose igno- 
rance often inclines them to an ill-grounded envy, 
that the rich must die as well as themselves. 

The common people call wit, mirth, and fancy, fol- 
ly ; fanciful and folliful, they use indiscriminately. 
It seems to flow from hence, that they consider mo- 
ney as of more importance, than the persons who 
possess it ; and that no conduct is wise, beside what 
has a tendency to enrich us. 

One should not destroy an insect, one should not 
quarrel with a dog, without a reason sufficient to 
vindicate one through all the courts of morality. 

The trouble occasioned by want of a servant, is so 
much less than the plague of a bad one, as it is less 
painful to clean a pair of shoes than undergo an ex- 
cess of anger. 

* Sister to Lord Bolingbroke : with her tic author had e»- 
joyed a literary correspondence. 



176 KSSAVS ON MEN 

The fund of sensible discourse is limited ; that of 
jest and badinerie is infinite. In many companies, 
then, where nothing is to be learned, it were, perhaps, 
better to get upon the familiar footing : to give and 
take in the way of raillery. 

When a wife or mistress lives as in a jail, the per- 
son that confines her lives the life of a jailor. 

There seems some analogy betwixt a person's man- 
ner in every action of his life. 

Lady Luxborough's hand-writing was, at the same 
time, delicate and masculine. Her features, her air, 
her understanding, her motions, and her sentiments, 

were the same. Mr. W , in the same respects, 

delicate, but not masculine. Mr. G , rather 

more delicate than masculine. Mr. J , rather 

more masculine than delicate. And this, in regard 
to the three last, extends to their drawing, versifica- 
tion. Sec. Sec. Sec. 

Riches deserve the attention of young persons rath- 
er than old ones ; though the practice is otherwise. 
To consume one's time and fortune at once, with- 
out pleasure, recompence, or figure, is like pouring 
forth one's spirits rather in phlebotomy than enjoy- 
ment. 

Parents are generally partial to great vivacity in 
their children, and are apt to be more or less fond of 
them in proportion to it. Perhaps, there cannot be 
a symptom less expressive of future judgment and 
solidity. It seems thoroughly to preclude not only 
depth of penetration, but also delicacy of sentiment. 
Neither does it seem any way consistent with a sen- 
sibility of pleasure, notwithstanding all external ap- 
pearances. It is a mere greyhound puppy in a war- 
ren, that runs at all truths, and at all sorts of plea- 
sure ; but does not allow itself time to be success- 
ful in securing any. It is a busy bee, whose whole 
time passes away in mere flight from flower to flow- 



AND JIANXERS. UT 

cr ; without resting upon any a sufficient time to 
gather honey. 

The queen of Sweden declared, " She did not love 
men as men ; but merely because they were not wo- 
men." What a spirited piece of satire I 

In mixed conversation, or amongst persons of no 
great knowledge, one indulges one's self in discourse 
that is neither ingenious nor significant. Vapid fri- 
volous chit chat serves to pass away time. But cork- 
ed up again in retirement, we recover our wonted 
strength, spirit, and flavour. 

The making presents to a lady one addresses, is 
like throwing armour into an enemy's camp, with a 
resolution to recover it. 

He that lies a-bed all a summer's morning, loses 

the chief pleasure of the day : he that gives up his 

i .■ ' ' --'1-1 •■— iinaero-oes a loss of the same 
kmd. 

Spleen is often little else than obstructed perspira- 
tion. 

The regard, men externally profess for their supe- 
riors, is oftentimes rewarded.. ..in the manner it de- 
serves. 

Methinks, all men should meet with a respect due 
to as high a character as they can act becomingly. 

Shining characters are not always the m.cst agree- 
able ones. The mild radiance of an emerald is by 
no means less pleasing than the glare of a ruby. 

Mankind suffers more by the conflict of contrary 
passions, than that of passion and reason : yet, per- 
haps, the truest way to quench one passion is to kin- 
dle up another. 

Prudent men should lock up their motives, giving 
only their intimates a key. 

The country esquire limits his an-ibition to a pre- 
eminence in the knowledge of horses ; that is, of an 
animal that may convey him with credit, ease, and 
safety, the little journeys he has to go. The phiio- 



178 



ESSAYS ON MEN 



so^er directs his ambition to some well-grounded sci- 
ence, which may with the same ease, credit, and 
safety, transport him through every stage of being ; 
so that he may not be overthrown by passion, nor 
trailed insipidly along by apathy. 

Tom Tweedle played a good fiddle ; but, nothing 
satisfied with the inconsiderable appellation of a fid- 
dler, dropped the practice, and is now no character. 

The best time to frame an answer to the letters of 
a friend, is the moment you receive them. Then 
the warmth of friendship, and the intelligence re- 
ceived, most forcibly co-operate. 

The philosophers and ancient sages, who declaim- 
ed against the vanity of all external advantages, seem 
in an equal degree to have countenanced and authori- 
zed the mental ones, or they wauld condemn their 

own example. ., . ^ ., .. ~ r 

superiority in wit is more frequently the cause of 

vanity than superiority of judgment ; as the person 

tiiat wears an ornamental sword, is ever more vain 

than he that wears an useful one. 

The person who has a superiority in wit is ena- 
bled, by the means of it, to see his superiority : 
hence a deference expected, and offence taken upl3n 
the failure. Add to this that wit, considered as fan- 
cy, renders all the passions more sensible ; the love 
of fame more remarkably so ; and you have some 
sort of reason for the revenge taken by wits upon 
those who neglect them. 

In the quarrels of our friends, it is incumbent on 
us to take a,part....in the quarrels of mere acquaint- 
ance, it is needless, and perhaps impertinent. 

When I have purchased aught by way of mere 
amusement, your reflexion upon the cost not only 
intimates the bargain I have made to be a bad one, 
but tends to make it so. 

' Had I the money those paintings cost,' says Tor- 
por, ' methinks I would have discovered some bet- 



AND MANNERS. 179 

ter method of disposing of it.' " And in what 
would you have expended it ?" * I would buy some 
fine horses.' " But you have already what answer 
your purpose !" * Yes, but I have a peculiar fancy 
for a fine horse.* " And have not I who bought 
these pictures, the same argument on my side ?" 
The truth is, he who extols his own amusements, 
and condemns another person's, unless he does it as 
they bear relation to virtue or vice, will at all times 
find himself at a loss for an argument. 

People of real genius have strong passions ; peo- 
ple of strong passions have great partialities ; such 
as Mr. Pope for Lord Bolingbroke, &c. Persons of 
slow parts have languid passions, and persons of lan- 
guid passions have little partiality. They neither 
love, nor hate, nor look, nor move with the energy 
of a man of sense. The faults of the former should 
be balanced with their excellencies : and the blame- 
lessness of the latter should be weighed with their 
insignificancy. Happiness and virtue are, perhaps, 
generally dispensed with more equality than we are 
aware. 

Extreme volatile and sprightly tempers seem in- 
consistent with any great enjoyment. There is too 
much time wasted in the mere transition from one 
object to anotlier. No room for those deep impres- 
sions, which are made alone by the duration of an 
idea ; and are quite requisite to any strong sensation, 
either of pleasure or of pain. The bee to collect ho- 
ney, or the spider to gather poison, must abide some 
time upon the weed or flower. They whose fluids 
are mere sal volatile, seem rather cheerful than hap- 
py men. The temper above described, is oftener 
the lot of wits, than of persons of great abilities. 

There are no persons more solicitious about the 
preservation of rank, than those who have no rank 
at all. Observe the humours of a country christen- 
ing ; and you will find no court in Christendom so 
ceremonious as the quality of Brentford. 



180 issAYS ON mp:n 

Critics will sometimes prefer the faulty state of a 
composition to the improved one, through mere per- 
verseness : In like manner, some will extol a person's 
past conduct, to depreciate his present. These are 
some of the numerous shifts and machinations of 
envy. 

Trees afford us the advantage of shade in sum- 
mer, as well as fuel in winter ; as the same virtue 
allays the fervour of intemperate passion in our 
youth, and serves to comfort and keep us warm" amid 
the rigours of old age. 

The term indecision, in a man's character, implies 
an idea very nicely different from that of irresolu- 
tion : yet it has a tendency to produce it ; and like 
that, has often its original in excessive delicacy and 
refinement. 

Persons of proud yet abject spirits will despise you 
for those distresses, for which the generous mind 
will pity, and endeavour to befriend you ; a hint, to 
whom only you should disclose, and from whom you 
should conceal them. Yet, perhaps, in general, it 
may be prudent to conceal them from persons of an 
opposite party. 

The sacrificing of our anger to our interest is of- 
ten-times no more, than the exchange of a painful 
passion for a pleasurable. 

There are not live in five hundred that pity, but, 
at the same time, also despise; a reason that you 
should be cautious to whom and where you complain. 
The farthest a prudent man should proceed in gen- 
eral, is to laugh at some of his own foibles : when 
this may be a means of removing envy from the more 
important parts of his character. 

ElTeminancy of appearance, and an excessive at- 
tention to the minute parts of dress, is, I believe, 
properly, in the general run, esteemed a symptom 
of irresolution. But, yet, instances are seen to abound 
in the French nation to the contrary. And in our 



AND MANNERS. Igl 

own, that of Lord Mark Kerr was an instance equal 
to a thousand. A snuff-box hinge, rendered invisi- 
ble, was an object on which his happiness appeared 
to turn ; which, however, might be clouded b}^ a 
speck of dirt, or v/ounded by a hole in the heel of 
his stocking-. Yet this man's intrepidity was shewn 
beyond all contradiction. What shall we say then 
of Mr. Gray, of manners very delicate, yet possess- 
ed of a poetical, vein fraught with the noblest and 
sublimest images, and of a mind remarkably well 
stored with the more masculine parts of learning ?.... 
Here, perhaps, we must remain in suspense. ...For 
though taste does not imply manners, so neither docs 
it preclude them : or what hinders, that a man should 
feel that same delicacy in regard to real honour, 
which he does in regard to dress ? 

If beneficence be not in a person's will, what im- 
ports it to mankind ; that it is ever so much in his 
power? And yet we see how much niore regard is 
generally paid to a worthless man of fortune, than to 
the most benevolent beggar that ever uttered an in- 
effectual blessing. It is all agreeable to Mr. Burke's 
thesis, that the formidable idea of power affects more 
deeply than the most beautiful image we can con- 
ceive of moral virtue. 

A person that is not merely stupid, is naturally un- 
der the influence of the acute passions, or the slow.... 
The principle of revenge is meant for the security of 
the individual ; and supposing a person has not cour- 
age to put it immediately into practice, he commonly 
strives to make himself remarkable for the persever- 
ance of his resentment. Both these have the same 
motive to impress a dread upon our enemies of inju- 
ring us for the future : and though the world be more 
inclined to favour the rash than the phlegmetic ene- 
my, it is hard to say which of the two has given rise 
to more dismal consequences. ...The reason of this 
partiality may be deduced from the same original, us 

Q 



182 ESSAYS ON MEN 

the preference that is given to down-rig^ht impudence 
before hypocrisy. To be cheated into an ill-placed 
esteem, or to be underminded by concealed maligni- 
ty, discovers a contempt for our understanding, and 
lessens the idea we entertain of it ourselves. They 
hurt our pride more than open violence, or undisguis- 
ed impudence. 

King James the First, willing to involve the regal 
power in mystery, that, like natural objects, it miight 
appear greater through the fog, declared it presump- 
tion for a subject to say, " what a king nught do in 
the fullness of his power. "....This was absurd ; but 
it seems presumption in a man of the world, to say 
what means a man of genius may think instrumental 
to his happiness. W used to say, it was pre- 
sumption for him to make conjectures on the occa- 
sion. A person of refinement seems to have his 
pleasures distinct from the comm.on run of m.en : 
what the world calls important, is to him M^holly fri- 
volous ; and what the world esteems frivolous, seems 
essential to his tranquillity. 

The apparatus of a funeral among the middle rank 
of people, and sometimes among the great, has one 
effect that is not frivolous. It in some measure dis- 
sipates and draws ott" the attention from the main 
object of concern. Weaker minds find a sort of re- 
lief in being compelled to give directions about the 
manner of interment : and the great solemnity of the 
hearse, plumes, and escutcheons, though they add 
to the force of terror, diminish that of simple grief. 

There are some people whom you cannot regard 
though they seem desirous to ot)lige you ; nay, even 
though they do you actual services. This is the case 
wherever their sentiments are too widely different 
from your own. Thus a person truly avaricious can 
never make himself truly agreeable to one enamour- 
ed with the arts and sciences. A person of exqui- 
site sensibility and tenderness can never be truly 



AND MANNERS. ioo 

pleased with another of no feelings ; who can see 
the most intimate of his friends or kindred expire 
without any greater pain than if he beheld a pitcher 
broken. These, properly speaking, can be said to 
feel nothing but the point of a sword ; and one could 
more easily pardon them, if this apathy were the ef- 
fect of philosophy, and not want of thought. But 
what I would inculcate is, .'ith tempers thus dif- 
ferent one should never attempt any close connexion : 

" Lupiset agnis quanta soriito obtigit, 
" Tecum mihi discordia est." 

Yet it may be a point of prudence to shew them ci- 
vility, and allow a toleration to their various propen- 
sities. To converse much ^vith them would not on- 
ly be painful, but tend to injure your own disposition : 
and to aim at obtaining their applause, would only 
make your character inconsistent. 

There are some people who find a gloomy kind of 
pleasure in glouting, which could hardly be encreas- 
ed by the satisfaction of having their wishes granted. 
This is, seemingly, a bad character, and yet often 
connected with a sense of honour, of conscious 
merit, with warm gratitude, great sincerity, and 
many other valuable qualities. 

There is a degree of understanding in women, 
with which one not only ought to be contented, but 
absolutely pleased... .One would not, in them, require 
the unfathomable abyss. 

The worst consequence of gratifying our passions, 
in regard to objects of an indilierent nature, is, that 
it causes them to proceed with greater violence to- 
wards other and other objects ; and so ad infinitum. 
I wish, for my pocket, an elegant etui ; and gold to 
remove the pain of wishing, and partake the plea- 
sure of enjoyment. I would part with the purchase ' 
money, for which I have less regard ; but the grati- 



184 ESSAYS ON MEN 

fication of this wish would generate fifty others, that 
would be ruinous. See Epictetus ; who, therefore, 
advises to resist the first. 

Virtue and agreeahleness are, I fear, too often se- 
parated ; that is, externals effect and captivate the 
fancy, where internal worth is wanting, to engage 
and atlacli one's reason. ...A most perplexing circum- 
stance ; and no where. more remarkable, tlian when 
we see a wise man totally enslaved by the beauty of 
'-A person he despises. 

I know not whether encreasing years do not cause 
one to esteem fewer people, and to bear \vith more. 

Quere, whether friendship for the sex doJ not tend 
to lessen the sensual appetite ; and vice versa. 

I think, I never knew an instance of great quick- 
ness of parts being joined with great solidity. The 
most rapid rivers are seldom or never deep. 

To be at once a rake, and to glory in the charac- 
ter, discovers at the same time a bad disposition and 
a bad taste. 

There are persons who slide insensibly into a habit 
of contradiction. Their first endeavour, upon hear- 
ing aught asserted, is to discover wherein it may be 
plausibly disputed. This, they imagine, gives an air 
of great p^«gacily ; and if they can mingle a jest with 
contradiction, think they display great superiority. 
One should be cautious against the advances of this 
kind of propensity, which loses us friends in a mat- 
ter generally of no consequence. 

The solicitude of peers to preserve, or to exalt, 
their rank, is esteemed no other than a manly and 
becoming ambition. The care of commoners, on the 
same subject, is deemed either vanity, formality, or 
pride. 

An income for life only seems the best calculated 
for the circumstances and situation of mortal man ; 
the farther property in an estate encreases the diffi- 
culty of disengaging our ^ffectio^is fvpm this wyrld, 



AND MANNERS. 185 

•and of thinking in a manner we ought to think of a 
system from which we must be entirely separated: 

«* I trust that sinking fund, my life." Pope, 

Surprize quickens enjoyment, and expectation ba- 
nishes surprize ; this is the simple reason, why few 
pleasures, that have engrossed our attention previ- 
ously, ever answer our ideas of them. Add to this, 
that imagination is a great magnifier, and causes the 
hopes we conceive to grow too large for their object.... 
Thus expectation does not only destroy the advan- 
tage of surprize, and so flattens pleasure ; but makes 
up hope for an imaginary addition, which gives the 
pain of disappointment. 



ON RELIGION, 

PERHAPS, we should not pray to God " to 
keep us stedfast in any faith ;" but conditionally, that 
it be a right one. 

When a tree is falling, I have seen the labourers, 
by a trivial jerk with a rope, throw it upon the spot 
where they would wish it should lie. Divines, un- 
derstanding this text too literally, pretend, by a lit- 
tle interposition in the article of death, to regulate a 
person's everlasting happiness. I fancy, the allu- 
sion will hardly countenance their presumption. 

When misfortunes happen to such as dissent from 
us in matters of religion, we call them judgments : 
when to those of our own sect, we call them trials : 
when to persons neither way distinguished, we are 
content to impute them to the settled course of 
things. 

Q2 



186 ESS Airs ON MEir 

In regard to church-music, if a man cannot be 
said to be merry or good-humoured when he is tick- 
led till he laughs, why should he be esteemed devout 
or pious when he is tweedled into zeal by the drone 
pipe of an organ ?....In answer to this it may be said, 
that if such an elevation of the spirits be not meritori- 
ous, be not devotion, yet it is attended with good conse- 
quences ; as it leaves a good impression upon the 
mind, favourable to virtue and a religious life. 

The rich man, adjoining to his country-seat, erects 
a chapel, as he pretends, to God Almighty, but in 
truth to his ov\ n vain-glory ; furnishes it with luxuri- 
ous conveniences, for prayers that will be never said. 
The poor man kneels by his bedside, and goes to 
heaven before him. 

I should think, a clergyman might distinguish him- 
self by composing a set of sermons upon the ordina- 
ry virtues extolled in classic writers, introducing the 
ornamental flourishes of Horace, Juveuiil, &.c. 

1. Against family pride, might be taken from Ju- 
venal's " Stemmata quid faciunt," Horace's " Non 
quia Mxcenas," and Marius's speech in Sallust. The 
text *' Is not this Joseph the carpenter's son ?" 

2. A sermon upon the advantages of competency, 
contentment, and rural life, might be abundantly em- 
bellished from the classics, and would be both grate- 
ful and serviceable to the common people : as the 
chief pa«sion from which they suffer is envy, 1 be- 
lieve, misplaced. 

3. Another might be calculated for each season of 
the year; illustrating the wisdom, the power, and 
the benevolence of Providence.. ..How idle to forego 
such fair and peaceable subjects, for the sake of wi- 
dening the breach betwixt grace and works, predes- 
tination and election ; solving the revelations ; or as- 
certaining the precise nature of Urim and Thura- 



AND MANNERS, IST 

It is a common argument amongst divines, in the 
behalf of a religious life, that a contrary behaviour 
has such consequences when we come to die. It is 
indeed true, but seems an argument of a subordi- 
nate kind : the article of death is more frequently of 
short duration. Is it not a stronger persuasive, that 
virtue makes us happy daily, and removes the fear of 
death from our lives antecedently, than that it smooths 
the pillow of a death-bed ? 

It is a question whether the remaining supersti- 
tions among the vulgar of the English nation ought 
wholly to be removed : the notion of a ghost's ap- 
pearance for the discovery of murder, or any flagrant 
act of injustice ; " that what is got over the devil's 
back will be spent under his belly;" " that cards are 
the devil's books," &:c. 

If there be numbers of people that murder and 
devour their species ; that have contradictory notions 
of beauty ; that have deemed it meritorious to offer 
up human sacrifices ; to leave their parents in deserts 
of wild beasts ; to expose their offspring as soon as 
born, See. See. there should seem to be no universal 
moral sense ; and of consequence, none. 

It is not now, " We have seen his star in the east," 
but " We have seen the star on his breast, and are 
come to worship him." 

It is said, I believe justly enough, that crimes ap- 
pear less heinous to a person that is about committing 
them, than to his conscience afterwards. Is then 
the crime to be imputed to him in the degree he fore- 
saw it, or in that he reflects upon it ? perhaps the 
one and the other may incline towards an extreme. 

The word " Religio" amongst the Romans, and 
the word " Church" among the Christians, seem to 
have more interpretations than almost any other. 
" Malus procidit, ea religione moti."....Livy, p. 1 150, 
vol. II. Here religion seems to mean prodigy.... 
** Si quis tale sacrum solenne duceret, ne se sine re-» 



188 ESSAYS ON MEN 

ligione et piaculo id omittere posse." Livy, 1157. 
Here it seemingly means impiety; '< Piaculum" be- 
ing- such an offence as required expiatory sacrifices, 

" Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum.'" 

Here it means superstition, as it does often in Lu- 
cretius. 

The pope's wanton excommunications ; his capri- 
cious pardon of sins ; his enormous indulgences, and 
other particulars of like nature, shew that whatever 
religions may practice cruelty, it is peculiarly the 
church that makes a jest of God Almighty. 

The word Church has these different senses : 

1. A set of people ordained to assist at divine ser- 
vice. 

2. The members of a certain religious profession, 
including clergy and laity. 

3. A large piece of building, dedicated to the ser- 
vice of God, and furnished with proper conveniences 
for those who meet to worship him. 

4. A body of people, who too frequently harass 
and infect the laity according to law, and who con- 
ceal their real names under that of a spiritual court. 

How ready have all nations been, after having al- 
lowed a proper portion of laud and praise to their own 
abilities., to attribute their success in war to the pe- 
culiar favour of a just Providence 1 Perhaps, this 
construciion, as it is often applied, argues more of pre- 
sumption than gratitude. In the first place, such is 
the partiality of the human heart, that, perhaps two 
hostile nations may aUke rely upon the justice of their 
cause ; and which of the two has the better claim to 
it, none but Providence can itself discover. In the 
next, it should be observed, that success by no means 
demonstrates justice. Again, we must not wholly 
forget to consider, that success may be no more than 
a means of destruction. And lastly, supposing sue- 



AND MANNERS* 189 

pess to be reaUy and absolutely good, do we find that 
individuals are always favoured with it in proportion 
to their desert ; and if not individuals, why must we 
then suppose it to be the uniform recompenceof so- 
ciety : 

It is often given as a reason why it is incumbent 
on God Almighty's justice, to punish or reward soci- 
eties in this world, because, hereafter, they cannot 
be punished or rewarded, on account of their desola- 
tion. It is, indeed, true that liuman vengeance must 
act frequently in the gross ; and whenever a govern- 
Kient declares war against a foreign society, or finds 
it needful to chastise any part of its own, must of ne- 
cessity involve some innocent individuals, with the 
guilty. But it does not appear so evident, that an 
omniscient and omnipotent Being, who knows the se- 
crets of all hearts, and is able to make a distinction 
in his punishments, will judge his unhappy creatures 
by these indiscriminate and imperfect laws. 

Societies then are to be considered as the casual 
or arbitrary assortments of human institution. To 
suppose that God Almighty will, by means of punish- 
ments, often called judgments, destroy them promis- 
cuously, is to suppose that he will regulate his gov- 
ernment according to the cabals of human wisdom. 
I mean to be understood here, with regard to what 
are called judgments, or, in other words, prjcterna- 
tural interpositions of Providence. In a natural way 
the constitution of the universe requires, that the good 
must often suffer with the bad part of society. But 
in regard to judgments upon whole bodies (which 
we have days appointed to deprecate) let us intro- 
duce a case, which may serve to illustrate the impro- 
bability. 

Societies, I suppose then, are not divine, but human 
bundles. 

Imagine a man to mix a large quantity of sand and 
gunpowder j then parcel out the composition into ^if- 



190 ESSAYS ON MEN 

ferent heaps, and apply fire to them separately. The 
fire, it is very obvious, would take no notice of the 
bundles ; would by no means consume, here and 
there, a bundle in the gross, but would afiect that part 
of every portion that was combustible. 

It may speciously enough be said, what greater in- 
justice is it to punish a society promiscuously, than 
to involve an innocent son in the punishment due to 
a sinful father ? to this I answer, the natural system 
(which ye need not doubt, upon the whole, is right) 
occasions both the good and bad to suffer many times 
indiscriminately. But they go much farther.. ..They 
say God, as it were, interferes, in opposition to the 
settled course of things, to punish and include socie- 
ties in one promiscuous vengeance. Were he to in- 
flict extraordinary punishments distinct from those 
which sin entails upon us, he surely would not reg- 
ulate them by mere human assortments, but would 
make the juster distinction of good and evil individ- 
uals. 

Neither do I see why it is so necessary, that soci- 
eties, either here or hereafter, should be punished as 
societies. " The soul that sinneth, it shall die." 

How happy may a lord bishop render a peasant at 
the hour of death, by bestowing on him his blessing, 
and giving him assurance of salvation ? It is the 
same with regard to religious opinions in general. 
They may be confirmed and established to their 
hearts content, because they assent implicitly to the 
opinions of men who, they think, should know. A 
person of distinguished parts and learning has no 
such advantages ; friendless, wavering, solitary, and 
through his very situation, incapable of much assis- 
tance: if the rustic's tenor of behaviour approach 
nearer to the brutes, he also appears to approach 
neidrer to their happiness. 



AND MANNERS. 191 

You pray for happiness... .consider the situation or 
disposition of your mind at the time, and you will 
find it naturally tends to produce it. 

In travelling, one contrives to allow day-light for 
the worse part of the roi?d. But in life, how hard 
is it, that every unhappiness seems united towards 
the close of our journey I pain, fatigue, and want of 
ispirits ; when spirits are more immediately necessa- 
ry to our support ! of which nothing can supply the 
place beside religion and philosophy ! But then the 
foundation must be laid in meditation and enquiry i 
at an unmolested season when our faculties are strong 
and vigorous ; or the tempest will most probably 
throw down the superstructure. 

How is a mean said to be guilty of incredulity ? 
Are there not sizes of understandings adapted to the 
different sorts, and as it were sizes of narrations ? 

Conscience is adscititious; I mean, influenced by 
conviction, which may be well or ill grounded ; 
therefore no certain test of truth : but at most times 
a very faithful and a very prudent admonitor. 

The attraction of bodies and social affection of 
minds seem in many respects analagous. 

Attractions of either kind are less perspicuous, 
and less perceptible, through a variety of counter 
attractions that diminish their effect. Were two 
persons to meet in Ispahan, though quite strangers 
to each other here, would they not go near to feel a 
kind of friendship, on the single score of their being 
Englishmen ? would they not pass a cheerful evening 
together over rice and sherbett ?....In like manner, 
suppose two or three contemporaries only to meet on 
the surface of the globe, amid myriads of persons 
of all other ages whatsoever, would they not discover 
a mutual tenderness, even though they had been ene- 
mies when living. What then remains, but that we 
revive the memory of such relations now, in order 
to quicken our benevolence ? that we are all country- 



192 ESSAYS ON MEK 

men, is a consideration that is more commonly in- 
culcated, and limits our benevolence to a smaller 
number also. That we are contemporaries, and per- 
sons whom future history shall unite, who, great part 
of us, however imperceptibly, receive and confer re- 
ciprocal benefits ; this, with ev'jry other circumstance 
that tends to heighten our philanthropy, should be 
brought to mind as much as possible, during our 
abode upon earth. Hereafter it may be just and re- 
quisite to comprehend all ages of mankind. 

The best notion we can conceive of God, may be, 
that he is to the creation what the soul is to the body: 

....'« Deus est quodcunque vidcs, ubicunque moveris." 

What is man, while we reflect upon a Deity, whose 
very words are works ; and all whose works are won- 
ders 1 

Prayer is not used to inform, for God is omniscient ; 
not to move compassion, for God is without passion ; 
not to shew our gratitude, for God knows our hearts. 
....May not a man, that has true notions, be a pious 
man though he be silent ? 

To honour God, is to conceive right notions of 
him, says some aLcient that I have forgot. 

I know not how Mr. Pope's assertion is consistent 
with the scheme of a particular Providence : 

" The Almighty cause 

Acts not by partial, but by general laws." 

What one imderstands by a general Providence, is 
that attention of the Almighty to the v/orks of his 
creation, by which they pursue their original course, 
without deviating into such eccentric notions as 
must immediately tend to the destruction of it. 
Thus a philosopher is enabled to foretel eclipses with 
precision; and a stone thrown upward drops uniform- 
ly to the ground. Thus an injury wakes resentment; 



AND MANNERS. 193 

and good oflice endears to us our benefactor. And 
it seems no unworthy idea of Omnipotence, perhaps, 
to suppose he at first constituted a system, that stood 
in no need either of his counteracting or suspending 
the first laws of motion. 

But, after all, the mind remains ; and we can shew 
it to be either impossible, or improbable, that God 
directs the will? Now whether the di.vine Being oc- 
casions a ruin to fall miraculously, or in direct oppo- 
sition to the ordinary laws of nature, upon the head 
of Chartres....or whether he inclines Chartres to go 
near a wall whose centre of gravity is unsupported, 
makes no material difference. 



ON fjsrE, 

I BELIEVE that, generally speaking, persons 
eminent in one branch of taste, have the principles 
of the rest ; and to try this, I have often solicited a 
stranger to hum a tune, and have seldom failed of 
success. This, however, does not extend to talents 
beyond the sphere of taste ; and Handel was evident- 
ly wrong, when he fancied himself born to command 
a troop of horse. 

Mankind, in general, may be divided into persons 
of understanding and persons of genius ; each of 
which all admit of many subordinate degrees. By 
persons of understanding, I mean persons of sound 
judgment ; formed for mathematical deductions and 
clear argumentation. By persons of genius, I would 
characterize those in whom true and genuine fancy 
predominates j and this whether assisted or not by 
cultivation. 

I have thought that genius and judgment may, in 
some respects, be represented by a liquid and a solid. 
R 



194 ESSAYS ON MEN 

The former is, generally speaking, remarkable for 
its sensibility, but then loses its impression soon : the 
latter is less susceptible of impression but retains it 
longer. 

Dividing the world into an hundred parts, I am 
apt to believe the calculation might be thus adjusted : 

Pedants 15 

Persons of common sense 40 

Wirs 15 

Fools 15 

Persons of a wild uncultivated taste 10 

Persons of original taste, improved by art . . 5 

There is hardly any thing so uncommom, as a 
true native taste improved by education. 

The object of taste is corporeal beauty ; for though 
there is manifestly a to sj^sttov ; a " pulchrum," an 
" honestum," and " decorum," in moral actions ; 
and although a man of taste that is not virtuous com- 
mits a greater violence upon his sentiments than any 
other person ; yet, in the ordinary course of speak- 
ing, a person is not termed a man of taste, merely 
because he is a man of virtue. 

All beauty may be divided into absolute and rela- 
tive, and what is compounded of both. 

It is not uncommon to hear a modern Quixote in- 
sist upon the superiority of his idol or Dulcinea ; and, 
not content to pay his own tribute of adoration, de- 
mand that of others in favor of her accomplishments. 
Those of grave and sober sense cannot avoid won- 
dering at a diiVerence of opinions, which are in truth 
supported by no criterion. 

J*: very one, therefore, ought to fix some measure 
ot' beauty, before he grows eloquent upon the sub- 
jects 

Every thing seems to derive its pretentions to 
beauty, oil account of its colour, smoothness, vari- 
ety, uniformity^ partial resemblance to something 



AND MANNERS. 195 

else, proportion, or suitableness to the end proposed, 
some connexion of ideas, or a mixture of all these. 

As to the beauty of colours, their present eflect 
seems in proportion to their impulse ; and scarlet, 
were it not for habit, would affect an Indian before 
all other colours. 

Resemblances wrought by art ; pictures, bustos, 
statues, please. 

Columns, proportioned to their incumbent weight; 
but herein we suppose homogeneous materials : it 
is otherwise, in case we know that a column is made 
of iron. 

Habit, herein, seems to have an influence to which 
•we can affix no bounds. Suppose the generality of 
mankind formed with a mouth from ear to ear, and 
that it were requisite in point of respiration, would 
not the present make of mouths have subjected a 
man to the name of Bocha Chica? 

It is probable^ that a clown would require more 
colours i 1 his Chloe's face, than a courtier. 

We may see daily the strange effects of habit, in 
respect of fashion. To vvhat colours, or proportions, 
does it not reconcile us ! 

. Conceit is false taste j and very widely different 
from no taste at all. 

Beauty of person should, perhaps, be estimated 
according to the proportion it bears to such a make 
and features as are most likely to produce the love 
of the opposite sex. The look of dignity, the look 
of wisdom, the look of delicacy and refinement, seem 
in some measure foreign. Perhaps, the appearance 
of sensibility may be one ingredient ; and tJmt of 
health, another. At least, a cadaverous countenance 
ii the most disgusting in the world. 

1 know not, if one reason of the different opinions 
concerning beauty be not owing to self-love. Peo- 
ple are apt to form some criterion, from their own 
persons, or possessions. A tall person approves the 



196 ESSAYS ON MEN 

look of a folio or octavo : a square thick-set man is 
more delighted with a quarto. This instance, at 
least, may serve to explain what I intend. 

I believe, it sometimes happens that a person mar 
have what the artists call an ear and an eye, without 
taste : for instance, a man may sometimes have a 
quickness in distinguishing the similitude or difFer- 
ence of lines and sounds, without any skill to give 
the proper preference betv^'ixt the combinations of 
them. 

Taste produces different effects upon different 
complexions. It consists, as I have often observed, 
in the appetite and the discernment ; then most pro- 
perly so called, when they are united in equal pro- 
portions. 

Where the discernment is predominant, a person 
is pleased with fewer objects, and requires perfection 
in what he sees. Vv'here the appetite prevails, he is 
so much attached to beauty, that he feels a gratifica- 
tion in every degree in which it is manifested. I 
frankly own myself to be of this latter class : I love 
painting and statuary so well, as, to be not undelight- 
ed with moderate performances. 

The reason people vary in their opinions of a por- 
trait, I mean with regard to the resemblance it bears 
to the original, seems no other than that they lay 
stress on different features in the original ; and this 
different stress is owing to different complexions of 
mind. 

People of little or no taste commend a person for 
its corpulency. I cannot see, why an excrescence 
of belly, cheek, or chin, should be deemed more 
beautiful than a wen on any other part of the body. 
Through a connexion of ideas, it may form the 
beauty of a pig or an ox. 

There seems a pretty exact analogy between the 
objects and the senses. Some tunes, some tastes, 
some visible objects, please at first, ai^d that only i 



AND MANNERS. 197 

Others only by degrees, and then long. ...(Raspberry- 
jelly.. ..Green-tea. ...Alley-Croaker.. ..Air in Ariadne 
....a Baron's Robe. ...and a Bishop's Lawn.) Per- 
haps, some of these instances may be ill enough 
chosen ; but the thing is true. 

Tunes, with words, please me the m.ore in pro- 
portion as they approach nearer to the natural accent 
of the words to which they are assigned. Scotch 
tunes often end high : their language does the same. 

To how very great a degree the appearance of 
health alone is beauty, I am not able to determine. 
I presume the most regular and well-proportioned 
form of limbs and features is at the same time the 
most healthful one : the fittest to perform the func- 
.tions and operations of the body. If so, a perfectly 
healthful form is a perfectly beautiful form... .Health 
is beauty, and the most perfect health is the tiiost 
perfect beauty. To have recourse to experience : 
the most sickly and cadaverous countenance is the 
least provocative to love ; or rather the most incon- 
sistent with it. A florid look, to appear beautiful, 
must be the bloom of health, and not the glow of a 
fever. 

An obvious connexion may be traced betwixt mo- 
ral and physical beauty ; the love of symmetry and 
the love of virtue ; an elegant taste and perfect ho- 
nesty. We may, we must, rise from the love of na- 
tural to that of moral beauty : such is the conclusion 
of Plato, and of my Lord Shaftesbury. 

Wherever there is a v»ant of tase, we generally 
observe a love of money, and cunning : and when- 
ever taste prevails, a want of prudence, and an utter 
disregard to money. 

Taste (or a just relish of beauty) seems to dis- 
tinguish us from the brute creation, as much as in- 
tellect, or reason. We do not find -that brutes have 
any sensation of this sort. A bull is goaded by the 
love of sex in general, without the least appearajBce 
R 2 



198 ESSAYS ON MEN 

of any distinction in favour of the more beautiful irt- 
dividual. Accordingly men devoid of taste are in a 
great measure indifferent as to make, complexion, 
feature ; and find a difference of sex sufficient to ex- 
cite their passion in all its fervor. It is not thus 
v/here there is a taste for beauty, either accurate or 
erroneous. The person of a good taste requires real 
beauty in the object of his passion ; and the person 
of bad taste requires something which he substitutes 
in the place of beauty. 

Persons of taste, it has been asserted, are also the 
best qualified to distinguish, and the most prone to 
admire, moral virtue : nor does it invalidate this max- 
im, that their practice does not correspond. The 
|3ower of acting virtuously depends in a great mea- 
sure upon withstanding a present, and perhaps sen- 
sual, gratification, for the sake of a more distant and 
intellectual satisfaction. Now, as persons of fine 
taste are men of the strongest sensual appetites, it 
happens that in balancing present and future, they 
are apt enough to allow an unreasonable advantage 
to the former. On the other hand, a more phlegma- 
tic character may, with no greater self-denial, allow 
the future fairer play. But let us vrave the merely 
sensual indulgences ; and let us consider the mi 
taste in regard to points of meum and tuum. ; in re- 
gard to the virtues of forgiveness; in regard to cha- 
rity, compassion, munificence, and magnanimity ; 
and we cannot fail to vote his taste the glorious tri- 
umph which it deserves. 

There is a kind of counter-taste, founded on sur- 
prize and curiosity, which maintains a sort of rival- 
ship with the true ; and may be expressed by the 
name Concetto. Such is the fondness of some per- 
sons for a knife-haft made from the royal oak, or a 
tobacco stopper from a mulberry-tree of Shakspeare's 
own planting. It gratifies an empty curiosity. Suck 
is the casual resemblance of Apollo and the nine 



AND MANNERS. 199 

muses in a piece of agate ; a dog expressed in fea- 
thers, or a woodcock in mohair. They serve to give 
surprize. But a just fancy will no more esteem a 
picture because it proves to be produced by shells, 
than a writer would prefer a pen because a person 
made it with his toes. In all such cases, difficulty 
should not be allowed to give a casting weight ; nor 
a needle be considered as a painter's instrument, 
when he is so ranch better furnished with a pencil*. 

Perhaps no print, or even painting, is capable of 
producing a figure answerable to the idea which poe- 
try or history has given of great men : a Cicero, for 
instance, a Homer, a Cato, or an Alexander. The 
same, perhaps, is true of the grandeur of some an- 
cient buildings.... And the reason is, that the effects 
of a pencil are distinct and limited, whereas the de- 
scriptions of the pen leave the imagination room to 
expatiate ; and Burke has made it extremely obvi- 
ous, that indistinctness of outline is one source of 
the sublime. 

What an absurdity is it, in framing even prints, to 
suffer a margin of white paper to appear beyond the 
ground ; destroying half the relievo the lights are in- 
tended to produce 1 Frames ought to contrast with 
paintings ; or to appear as distinct as possible : for 
which reason, frames of wood inlaid, or otherwise 
varigated with colours, are less suitable than gilt ones, 
which, exhibiting an appearance of metal, afford the 
V»est contrast with colour. 

The peculiar expression in'some portraits is owing 
to the greater or less manifestation of the soul in some 
of the features. 

* Cornelius Ketel, born at Gonda in 1548 ; landed in Eng- 
land 1573 ; settled at Amsterdam 1581 ; took it into his head to 
groiv famous by painting with his fingers instead of pencils.... 
The whim took.. ..His success increased.. ..His fingers appearing 

too easy tools, he then undertoolc to paint with his feet See 

H. Walpole's Book of Painters. 



200 ESSAYS ON MEN 

There is, perhaps, a sublime, and a beautiful, in 
the very make of a face, exclusive of any particular 
expression of the soul ; or, at least, not expressive 
of any other than a tame dispassionate one. We see 
often what the world calls regular features, and a 
good complexion, almost totally unani mated by any 
discovery of the temper or understanding. When- 
ever the regularity of feature, beauty or complex- 
ion, the strong expression of sagacity and generosi- 
ty, concur in one face, the features are irresistible. 

But even here it is to be observed, that a sort of 
sympathy has a prodigious bias.... Thus a pensive 
beauty, with regular features and complexion, will 
have the preference with a spectator of the pensive 
cast : and so of the rest. 

The soul appears to me to discover herself most 
in the mouth and eyes ; with this difference, that the 
mouth seems the more expressive of the temper and 
the eye of the understanding. 

Is a portrait, supposing it as like as can be to the 
person for whom it is drawn, a more or less beauti- 
ful object than the original face? I should think, a 
perfect face must be much more pleasing than any 
representation of it ; and a set of ugly features much 
more ugly than the most exact resemblance that can 
be drawn of them. Painting cao do much by means 
of shades ; but not equal the force of real relievo : 
on v»?hich account, it may be the advantage of bad 
features to have their effect diminished ; but surely, 
never can be the interest of good ones. 

Softness of manner seems to be in painting, what 
smoothness of syllables is in language, affecting the 
sense of sight or hearing, previous to any correspon- 
dent passion. 

The " theory of agreeable sensations" founds them 
upon the greatest activity or exercise an object occa- 
sions to the senses, without proceeding to fatigue. 
Violent contrasts are upon the footing of roughness 



AKD MANNERS. 201 

or inequality.... Harmony or similitude, on the other 
hand, are somewhat congenial to snioothness. In 
other words, these two recommend themselves ; the 
one to our love of action, the other to cur love of 
rest. A medium, therefore, may be rhost agreeable 
to the generality. 

An harmony in colours seems as requisite, as a 
variety of lines seems necessary to the pleasure 
we expect from outward forms. The lines, indeed, 
should be well varied ; but yet the opposite sides of 
any thing should shew a balance, or an appearance 
of equal quaniity, if we would strive to please a well- 
constituted taste. 

It is evident enough to me, that persons often oc- 
cur, who may be said to have an ear to music, and 
an eye for proportions in visible objects, who never- 
theless can hardly be said to have a relish or taste 
for either. I mean, that a person may distinguish 
notes and tones to a nicety, and yet not give a discern- 
ing choice to what is preferable in music. The same 
in objects of sight. 

On the other hand, they cannot have a proper 
feeling of beauty or harmony, without a power of 
discriminating those notes and proportions on which 
harmony and beauty so fully depend. 

What is said, in a treatise lately published for 
beauty's being more common than deformity (and 
seemingly with excellent reason), may be also said for 
virtue's being more common than vice. 

Quere, Whether beauty do not require as much 
an opposition of lines, as it does an harmony of co- 
lours ? 

The passion for an^tiquity, as such, seems in some 
measure opposite to the taste for beauty or perfec- 
tion. It is rather the foible of a lazy and pusillani- 
mous disposition, looking back and resting with 
pleasure on the steps by which we have arrived thus 
far, than the bold and enterprising spirit of a genius, 
whose ambition fires him only to reach the goal. 



202 ESSAYS ON MEN 

Such as is described (on another occasion) in the zeal- 
ous and active charioteer of Horace: 

" hunc atque hunc superare laboret. 

" Instai equis aui-iga snos vincentibus; ilium 
" Pn>v,t:eritum temnens extremes inter euntem/' 

A^-ain, the 

" Nil actum repiitans, si quid restaret agendum" 
is the least applicable, of any character, to a mere 
antiquarian ; who, instead of endeavouring to im- 
prove or to excel, contents himself, perl-.aps, vvith 
discovering the very name of a first inventor ; or 
with tracing back an art tliat is nourishing, to the 
very first source of its original deformity. 

I have heard it claimed by adepts in music, that . 
the pleasure it imparts to a natural ear, M'hich owes 
little or nothing to cultivation, is by no means to be 
compared to what they feel themselves from the most 
perfect composition. ...The state of question may be 
best explained by a recourse to objects that are anala- 
gous....ls a country fellow less struck vvith beauty 
than a philosopher or an anatomist, who knows how 
that beauty is produced ? Surely no. On the other 
hand, an attention to the effect.. .'.They may, indeed, 
feel a pleasure of another sort.. ..The faculty of rea- 
son may obtain some kind of balance, for what the 
more sensible faculty of the imagination loses. 

I am much inclined to suppose our ideas of beau- 
ty depend greatly upon habit....what 1 mean is, up- 
on the familiarity with objects which we happen to 
have seen since we came into the v/orld....Our taste 
for uniformity, from what we have observed in the 
individual parts of nature, a man, a tree, a beast, a 
bird, or insect. Sec. ...our taste for regularity from 
what is within our power to observe in the several 
perfections of the whole system. 

A landscape, for instance, is always irregular, and 
to use regularity in painting, or gardening, would 



AND MANNERS. 203 

make our work unnatural and disagreeable. Thus 
we allow beauty to the different, and almost oppo- 
site, proportions of all animals. 

There is, I think, a beauty in some forms, inde- 
pendent of any use to which they can be applied. I 
know not whether this may not be resolved into 
smoothness of surface ; with variety to a certain de- 
gree, that is comprehensible without much diffi- 
culty. 

As to the dignity of colours, quere, whether those 
that affect the eye most forcibly, for instance, scar- 
let, may not clai^Ti the first place ; allowini^ their 
beauty to cloy soonest ; and other colours, the next, 
according to their impulse ; allowing them to pro- 
duce a more durable pleasure ? 

It may be convenient to divide beauty into the ab- 
solute and relative. Absolute is that abovemention- 
ed. Relative is that by which an object pleases, 
through the relative it bears to some other. 

Our taste of beauty is, perhaps, compounded of 
all the ideas that have entered the imagination from 
our birth. This seems to occasion the different opin- 
ions that prevail concerning it. For instance, a fo- 
reign eye esteems those features and dresses hand- 
some, which we think deformed. 

Is it not then likely that those who have seen most 
objects, throughout the universe, " ceteris paribus," 
will be the most impartial judges : because they will 
judge truest of the general proportion which was in- 
tended by the Creator ; and is best. 

The beauty of most objects is partly of the abso- 
lute and partly of the relative kind. A Corinthian 
pillar has some beauty dependent on its variety and 
smoothness: which I would call absolute ; it has also 
a relative beauty, dependent on its taperness and fo- 
liage ; which, authors say, was first copied from the 
leaves of plants, and the shape of a tree. 

Uniformity should, perhaps, be added as another 
source of absolute beauty (when it appears in one sia- 



204 ESSAYS, 8cc. 

gle object). I do not know any other reason, but that 
it renders the whole more easily comprehended. It 
seems that nature herself considers it as beauty, as tb-e - 
external parts of the human frame are made uniform 
to please the sight ; which is rarely the case of the 
internal, that are not seen. 

Hutchinson determines absolute beauty to depend 
on this and on variety : and says it is in a com|>ound 
ratio of both. Thus an octagon excels a square : and 
a square, a figure of unequal sides : but carry varie- 
ty to an extreme, and it loses its effect. For instance, 
multiply the number of angles till the mind loses the 
uniformity of parts, and the figure is less pleasing ; 
or, as it approaches nearer to around, it may be said 
to be robbed of its variety. 

But, amidst all these eulogiums of variety, it is pro- 
per to observe, that novelty sometimes requires a lit- 
tle abatement. I mean, that some degree of famili- 
arity introduces a discovery of relative beauty, more 

than adequate to the bloom of novelty This is, now 

and then, obvious in the features of a face, the air 
of some tunes, and the flavour of some dishes. In 
short, it requires some familiarity to become acquaint- 
ed with the relation that parts bear unto the whole, 
or one object to another. 

Variety, in the same object, where the beauty does 
not depend on intimation (which is the case in foliage, 
bustos, basso-relievos, painting), requires uniformity. 
For instance, an octagon is much more beautiful than 
a figure of unequal sides ; which is at once various 
and disagreeable.* 



FINIS. 



i.R8%28 



>f 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent; Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: March 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADi^n IN CO" " cpTsnMS PRESERVATION 
111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 385 170 9 



